Over the Moon
by FlamingMaple
Summary: Almost home, and almost about to discover Alice, Bella looks up, instead of away. Her future unfolds in a remarkably different way at the end of New Moon—this time, with Jacob. The vampires, however, whose paths have crossed hers before, are not done with her yet, & college life is complicated. Warning: major character death. BxE, BxJ. HEA. Complete.
1. All the luck

Author's note for 2018-12-11: if you are an Edward fan, this story will upset you. Read on at your own peril. ~ Erin

* * *

"Ha!" Charlie said, hanging up the phone, seeing Bella walk into the kitchen, "you'll never believe it," he shook his head, "Daphne, over at the diner?" He waited for Bella's nod, "apparently had a long lost cousin who just died."

Bella looked at him, brow furrowed, "OK," wondering how this was a good thing, because clearly it was to Charlie.

"Anyway," he continued on, "her cousin left her a car, which she has no need for. And seeing as you're heading off to college, and currently without one, she'd like to give it to you."

"Give it to me?" she said, not sure she'd heard right.

"Yeah," he said, hands spread out, "I offered to pay for it, but she wouldn't hear it."

"No way," Bella said, shaking her head, "that's too much."

"Oh, don't worry Bells, I'm there every week, she'll just be getting seriously generous tips for a while."

"Dad, no—"

"Uh-uh, no 'nos' from you. My baby's goin' to college. I can at least get her there," Charlie said, wrapping her up in a hug.

She considered further opposition, but opted for gracious acceptance.

"Thank you, Dad," she said.

It felt wrong.

He chuckled. "It's nice to see you accepting something without an argument," and pausing, "even if it totally goes against your nature."

She joined him in his chuckle, pulling back from his hug. "We all have to grow up, I guess."

Jacob was happy for her when she called with the news.

"Sweet!" he said, "What kind of car is it?"

She had no idea. "Uh, I forgot to ask."

"Seriously?"

She laughed. "Seriously, yeah, I guess I'd better ask Charlie."

It was practically new, despite being a few years old. "A CRV," he said, shaking his head, "You have all the luck." Sliding under it, and out again, Jacob mumbled, "swear it's been parked since it came off the lot. You said it was used?"

"That's what Daphne said."

"Huh," he said, looking at it. "It's in great shape. And there are snow tires in the back, too," he said, flipping the backs of his fingers against the silver body.

Coming back around, he opened up the rear driver-side door, "and it totally has lots of room in the back to make out in."

She'd squealed when he picked her up and slid her onto the seat, to show her exactly what he meant.

"One-track wolf," she said, finally disentangling herself. "Come on, I have to go home and pack some more."

He pulled her up, but didn't let go of her, his embrace soft, but sure. He sighed. "I'm going to miss you. A lot."

"Feeling's mutual Mr. Wolf," she said, smiling. "You can come visit, you know."

"Yeah," he smiled, "I know. I will. Not the same."

"No," she agreed, "not the same."

She stopped him before he could distract her again, reiterating, "Jake, I really do need to go finish packing." Looking up at him, she added, "see me off, tomorrow morning?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he said, and kissed her, leaving her with something to think about on the drive home.


	2. The Cooker

**The cooker**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

On the third walk up to her room, Bella was beginning to regret declining Charlie's offer to come with her, and get her settled in. It was nice to have a bit of a view from the third floor, but carrying everything up to it was a different story.

"Oh," she said, seeing what she presumed was her new roommate, standing in their room, "hey," dropping her stuff on the floor, "I'm Bella." She extended her hand, and the young woman took it, but shyly.

"I'm Grace," she said softly, looking at Bella with either awe, or horror. Bella wasn't sure which. She looked down at herself, wondering if she'd missed some serious wardrobe malfunction hoofing it up and down the stairs.

Nope. Sweaty, but t-shirt and shorts were all in order.

Despite the heat of the day, Grace wore a loose blouse, its long sleeves puffed at the shoulders, buttoned to the collar, and a floor-length skirt.

"Where're you from?" Bella said, deciding it would be good to take a break for a bit, and sat down on the desk chair.

"Utah," she said quietly. "Hildale."

"Wow," Bella said, "you're far from home."

Grace blushed floridly.

Bella felt an instant kinship. The girl's thin, pale hair, neatly pulled back, made her look like a sunburned turnip.

"Yes, I couldn't...get into any of the programs at home," she said. "So I'm stuck here."

Bella was surprised. Washington State wasn't Ivy League, by any stretch, but it was a good state school.

"You had somewhere else you were hoping to go?" she asked, politely, but the blush became purple, and she regretted continuing in the vein of conversation.

Grace looked down, "yes," and then there were tears.

Crap.

Bella cast around for something else to talk about. "So I saw a sign for a floor mixer down in the lounge, later, if you want to go?" she asked, hoping this would perk her up.

Grace, instead, looked at her, disgust plain in the twist of her mouth. "I would never attend an event like that." Then she turned around, and began angrily unpacking her belongings.

Guess we don't need to talk about who gets what side of the room? Bella thought, and rested, at least, decided to get the last of her things.

On her last, slow trudge up the stairs, she was trying to slide past someone, when she tripped, and everything in arms went flying.

To her florid embarrassment, it was the box of tampons that chose to open, and spray its contents most widely.

The boy who stopped to help her, smiled, and said "nothing like picking up a girl's tampon box as a way to introduce yourself. I'm Ben," and he smiled at her, a wide grin that showed a healthily, and imperfect set of teeth, and eyes that twinkled with good humour.

"Thanks," Bella said, trying to push the blush down into her chest. "Bella," and they shook hands.

"Bella Frosh," he said, "good to know."

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Frosh—first year," he answered, picking up a few more things, "which floor?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she said, reaching out for her things.

"Unlikely," he said, "you look like you're well practised at falling down, let me help you up to your room."

"Third floor," she smiled.

"Ah, the cooker," he said.

"The what?" She was beginning to feel like she was lost in a whole new language.

"Third floor is toasty all year round. Hot in summer, boiling in winter. The cooker. Something wrong with the thermostats."

"I got smart after first year there, requested the second floor," he said, "room 201, if you need anything."

When they got to the room, Grace hissed in a breath when Ben set Bella's things down. She was more beet-like by the time he left, giving Bella a casual "see ya" on the way out.

"No boys," she said to Bella. "Ever. In our room."

"Uh," Bella said, "why?" wondering just what kind of roommate she'd acquired.

"Because," she said, as if this was obvious.

"'K," Bella said, trying to be nice. She didn't expect Jacob would expect to spend the night, but still. "When you're here, sure."

Grace's eyes grew wide at this statement, but she only murmured, "excuse me", and then knelt in front of her bed.

Was she….praying? Bella wondered.

It was then, that she caught sight of the books, neatly stacked on the bedside table. They had dark, well-worn covers, and the fine india paper was edged with gold. From where she stood, she could make out the word "Mormon" on the topmost one.

Oh.

That explained a lot.

Not a Mormon. No, she'd met enough of those in her time to know they didn't dress like Laura Ingalls. This was a different creature entirely, a fundamentalist Mormon. She would bet money on it.

Then she blew out a deep breath.

Well, at least, she told herself, she didn't have to worry about her dromie coming home drunk, and vomiting everywhere.

An hour later, Bella was mostly unpacked, and pulling her t-shirt away from her, determined that yes, so far, her room was sweltering. The window was open already, but the breeze was negligible. Looking at Grace, who had unpacked her own, sparse belongings, Bella wondered how she would react to her changing in the room. She briefly considered going to the bathroom, but dismissed it. Turning her back to Grace, she pulled off her shirt, and slipped on the new one, running a brush through her hair.

Peeking behind her, Grace was still on her knees. Apparently, her praying took a long time.

Bella hoped she wasn't the cause of the prayer.

Trying to be polite, she offered one more time, "I'm going to the social. Looks like they'll have some pizza and soda. Sure you don't want to come with me? Meet the other girls on the floor?"

Grace was more polite this time, and said "No thank you," adding quietly, "have a nice time."

"Thanks," Bella murmured, heading out the door.

The lounge was packed, and she stood at the door, surveying the room, before stepping into it.

"Hey, Frosh Bella, come say hi!" Ben called out, waving her over.

Relieved to know at least one person, she was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by the group of people around him.

She tried, without success, to keep track of all the names being thrown at her, but the only one that stuck was Cathy, who was a mirror image of Bella, in her petite, brunette frame.

They discovered they were both South western transplants, Cathy from Los Vegas, and Bella from Phoenix.

"Didn't want to go south then?" Cathy asked, a glint in her eye.

"No," Bella shook her head, thinking of the many, complex reasons for staying close, "you?"

She shook her head too. "The green and wet grows on you, you know?"

"Yeah," Bella said, liking her more and more, "Actually, I do."

They'd passed the early afternoon discovering their other mutual interests, and by the time Bella had returned to her dorm room, pleasantly tired, she was ready to brush her teeth, and fall into bed.

She was relieved that the bathrooms were not the horror stories she'd heard of, and returned to her room. Grace had changed, and was in bed, reading what appeared to be a nursing textbook.

"Night," she said to her, turning off her own bedside lamp.

"Blessed sleep," came the soft reply.

It felt strange to hear, but not unpleasant, and Bella smiled at the thought. Her sleep had not always been so blessed. She touched the dreamcatcher she'd hung on the bed frame, promising herself she'd call Jake in the morning before class.

The heat of the room was uncomfortable, but Bella didn't think Grace would be up for leaving the door open a crack, so she let it recall the warmth of Jacob's arms, remembering the many hours they'd lingered on the cool grey beach, she luxuriating in his sure sultriness. It was a pleasant descent into the nothingness of sleep.


	3. First Class

**First Class**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Charlie had insisted on the cell phone. She'd refused, at first, until he made veiled threats of having his buddies on the Seattle police force come and check up on her.

"Fine, Dad, give me the damn phone," she'd said.

He'd handed it over, saying "A polite 'thank you' would suffice."

"Yello!" came Jacob's exuberant greeting, when he picked up her call.

"Hey!" she said back, "It's me!"

"Bella!" and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Her heart clenched just a little, and she wondered what was wrong with her. It had been a day.

 _A day._

"So, how're things?" he asked, practically bouncing on his end.

"Good. Got a roommate and everything, just about to head off to breakfast, and my first class," she said, stuffing her binder and pen in her bag. She threw in a book too, just in case there was some down time.

"So, is she hot?" Jacob asked.

Bella laughed, loudly. This had been their long-standing joke all summer. That she would have a drop-dead gorgeous roommate that Jacob would instantly fall in love with, and leave her. It was meant to be utterly ridiculous, and it was. This, after Jacob had given up trying to reassure Bella of what she meant to him. She'd been steeped in insecurity, flatly describing herself as "broken," when she'd finally let their relationship move to its current state.

"Not at all. Sorry. Except, well, we're both boiling in here. It's like hanging out with you, in a sauna, or something," she smiled.

"Let's do that sometime," he said, liking the idea of it. Vividly imagining Bella only wrapped in a towel

"You've got a one track mind Jacob Black."

"Uh-huh. Shall I come and visit and show you what it looks like this weekend?"

"Don't you have work this weekend?" she said, using their coded language, avoiding his innuendo.

"Sure," he said. "But the demands are low, hey? Looks like I can have some time off, if I want."

"Where would you stay?" Bella asked, "or, I mean, would you? It's a long way—"

"Do you want me to come?"

Bella thought about this for a minute. "Yes, of course I do. It's just—it's a long way for a visit, Jake."

"Not when you have four legs, it isn't."

She could just picture his wolfy grin, saying that.

Looking at the clock, she realised she had to go, "Gotta run, don't want to be late on the first day," she said.

Walking into the cafeteria—dining hall, she corrected herself, she felt a fresh pang, wondering what Charlie would be eating now that she was gone. She gave her head a quick shake, knowing he'd have to figure it out at some point. She'd tried, over the summer, to teach him a few basic things, but he'd been a reluctant learner.

It was a pleasant realization that she didn't have to cook food, shop for it, or even do the dishes after eating. Wow. That was a change.

Cathy waved at her from a table by the window, coming over to warn her, "don't drink the coffee, you'll have the shits from here to Friday."

"Uh, thanks," Bella said, "Avoid the coffee, got it."

"Besides," Cathy continued, "There's a sweet gem of a place just around the corner. I'll take you sometime."

Sitting down to eat with her, Bella pulled out her schedule, and a map, and was relieved to see they had some buildings, if not classes, in common.

The day passed in a blur of course syllabuses, and textbook purchases, with a flurry of other registrations she had to make.

By the late afternoon, she was wondering how she would get through the reading already assigned. There was a good chunk of pages for each day, and course, and she thought Grace might be onto something, starting the reading early.

A less informal social had sprung up in the hallway after dinner, and Bella smiled at everyone, as she came back to her room, but declined to join them. The wall of heat was too much to take, though, and she left Grace to sweat it out over the books, ducking back outside to the benches in the treed area adjacent to the building.

It was overcast, and muggy, but not as warm as their room, and Bella enjoyed the occasional breeze that flitted her way.

It was one such wafting of air that carried a scent to her that startled her from her books.

It smelled like—

No, she told herself. No. It did not. Not even an avenue of thought worth acknowledging, let alone travelling down. But she couldn't shake the idea that there was something in the thick stand of trees that banked the building.

The fading light made her finish her notes, and sighing, return to the building. Lugging her books up the stairs, she was startled by the hand on her elbow.

"Hey," Ben said, "sorry, didn't mean to surprise you." He took in the books in her arms, "room too warm hey?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I can see where the nickname comes from."

"Second floor lounge is usually empty," he said. "Most parties tend to go to 1st and 3rd floors."

With a casual wave, and a bright smile, he was gone.

She resolved to try the lounge next day, but was feeling done for the evening, ready for...she realised, she would normally read a book before bed, but maybe, not tonight. Maybe just sleep.

And so it was, that the exhausted pattern of class and reading and sleep repeated itself, until Friday, when returning to her room, she'd found Jacob, leaning against her door.


	4. Big, bad, happy wolf

**Big, bad, happy wolf**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

He hadn't even bothered to say hello, had reached her in a long stride and picked her up in a squeeze that took the air out of her lungs as he kissed her.

She wasn't sure he could hear her quiet 'can't breath' over the cat calls from the other occupants in the hallway. It was a mixed floor, and she could hear loud and encouraging "whoops" from many of the male passersby.

"I have missed you," he said, when he finally let her go.

She took a deep breath in, before she could answer him. "Yeah," she said, "I can tell," but smiled at him, feeling the familiar ache ease at the touch of his hands.

"So," he said, grinning wickedly, "gonna show me your room?"

"Uh," she said, "maybe?"

He looked confused, then worried. "Did I miss something?" he said, "when you called?"

"No," she shook her head, smiling, "nothing like that. My roommate...she's um, conservative. She made her views on boys in the room clear on our first day." She cleared her throat, and then peeked in the room. "Coast is clear," she smiled, and he picked her up, carrying her inside.

"Really—?" she asked, but her words were cut off by his lips.

He landed, with an unhealthy sounding squawk from the bedframe, on her mattress, leaning over her, continuing what he'd begun outside.

To say he had missed her was an understatement, at best. He'd ached, thinking of her, finding himself drawn to their spot at the beach, sitting by their log, trying to locate himself in the memory of her. She had talked about him being her sun, but she was simply his—everything—it hurt not to be able to see her, touch her, easily.

He'd worried, too, and had been alarmed at the scent he'd caught coming onto campus. It had been faint, but still present, diffuse in the outdoors. He said nothing, but it made him want to visit regularly.

Heck, it made him want to ditch school permanently and lurk in the background of her life.

He'd told himself it was nothing, that it was just life in a big city, but the words did little reassure him, and he wanted to mark her with his scent, let the world know that she was his. Let the leeches know what would be coming if they so much as breathed on her.

"Jake!" she said, pushing him away, "hold on!" Sitting up, she took his hand, "I'm totally happy to see you, just, yeah," she finished, "let me breathe, 'K?" She was smiling as she said it, and Jacob relented, reluctantly.

"Sorry," he said, "I have just...really missed you." His voice was soft, and uncertain, she heard.

"I've missed you too," she said, leaning into him, "just give me some time to warm up?"

"In this room?" He asked, laughing.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she said, chuckling. Her arm was sweating where it touched his. Looking at him, and the time, she asked "so, can I take you to dinner? I know this super fancy pants place, called the dining hall."

"I'm always up for food," he said, standing up with her, grinning.

Bella introduced Jacob to the few people she'd met in the first week, including Ben and Cathy, who looked askance at Jacob when he mentioned he was a junior. In high school.

"So, you're...17?" Ben asked, incredulous, taking in Jacob's physique.

Jacob smiled again, "yep, build 'em bigger where we come from," noting Ben's lean and wiry frame.

"And you're here with your parents or something?" Ben's tone held an ugly note of condescension.

"Nope, you here with yours?" he asked back, innocently.

Cathy raised her eyebrows at Bella, who mirrored her expression, mouthing "testosterone."

"You ready to go, Bells?" Jacob asked Bella, taking her hand in a clearly possessive gesture. "Maybe I can take you for dessert?"

Bella held in her laugh, knowing that dessert had nothing to do with food.

"I think I'm up for that," she said, standing, and giving him a peck on the cheek.

They waved goodbye, and strolled out together, Jacob's hand in her back pocket.

"So," he said, between applying his lips to the soft flesh at her neck, "is me being all possessive a turn on for you, or something? Because, I can totally do that again, if you want."

Laying under him on the bed, Bella was tracing the shape of his head and back appreciatively with her hands, small, and equally appreciative sounds bubbling up from her throat.

He had moved his own hands up under her shirt, easily spanning the curvature of her ribs, his lips on hers. His weight was a comfortable pressure, one that felt like it held her to herself. She could tell though, that he was ready for more, and the squeeze of his fingers was becoming uncomfortable. HIs hips were pressed into hers, and his kisses were growing frenzied, his teeth nipping at her lips.

She half expected him to start panting, and giggled, at this thought.

It made him stop, startled, uneasy. "Did I—?" he said, breathing heavily, looking at her.

"No," she whispered, pulling him back towards her, "I was just thinking about how...instinctive...you become, when we're together."

The word irked Jacob. Together.

He paused, not wanting his feeling to touch her, or their time, and rolled off of her, holding his head up on his hand.

"Hey," she said, sitting up as he pulled away. "Sorry, I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He shook his head. "Not that, no. I just—I want you Bella, and I know you're not ready." He blew out his breath, "and that's OK," he added, watching her face fall.

Shit, he thought. You idiot. Totally wrong thing to say.

"No, no, no—" he said quickly, sitting to hold her in his arms, "don't—please, you asked—"

"Sorry," she said, smiling as much as she could, at him, not knowing how to explain that she wanted to as well, but just...couldn't. She hadn't felt right since—then. Still sometimes found herself clutching at the wound she couldn't touch. Could barely think of exposing that rawness to anyone, not even Jacob. She could feel it, throbbing still, inside, that small piece of emptiness that threatened to snatch pieces of her sometimes.

He could see it, eating her in the moment, and reached out his hand. "I get it, Bella. I love you. My ravenous werewolf hormones will not kill me," he grinned, and then stood up, pulling her to join him, "wanna go see a movie or something?" he asked. "Catch the local nightlife...not the furry kind," he added.

She laughed, nodding "Yeah, let's go for a walk."

"Can you give me five minutes, first?" he'd countered, "outside?"

"Sure," she nodded out the window, "there's a nice grove of trees and shrubs that way, if you need some privacy."

He ducked out, and she tidied herself up, waiting for him, wondering if she needed to find a collared shirt. She checked in the mirror—no, neck was clear.

She'd learned her lesson last spring, when she'd come down for breakfast unaware of how marked she was.

"So, who you dating?" Charlie had asked, casually sipping at his coffee.

Picking up the newspaper, she'd lied, avoiding a conversation she wasn't ready for. "No one."

He'd cleared his throat and said, "well, let me rephrase, who're you making out with then?"

When she'd looked up at him, he'd flicked his spoon in the direction of her neck, and she'd flushed a horrified red.

"Not that it's my business," he said quietly, "but, if you don't want people to ask, maybe put a turtleneck on."

Bella had laid out some ground rules after that, and Jacob had tried his hardest to violate them at every turn.

"But I like people knowing that we're together," he'd said, his voice leaning to a playful whine, "and they're fun to make, too." He had been demonstrating his technique in the crook of her shoulder, as she had purred appreciatively. She'd relented, a little, after that.

When he returned to her room, his face was carefully composed, and she looked at him askance. "Everything OK, at home?" She hated asking, hated feeling the clench in her gut, wondering if she'd come back. If someone'd been hurt. Jacob assured her every time she'd been brave enough to ask, that they were in no danger, but even her own experience with Laurent had not been enough to cement this belief.

"Just dandy at home," he said, not adding that the smell that had alarmed him had been strongest in the copse he'd found nearby.

"Give me the grand tour baby, and then," he smiled, "I should head back."

"So soon?"

He nodded. "Work, tomorrow," he said, grinning.

So they headed out, one of them more aware than the other of the eyes that watched them from a distance, their golden irises vivid with interest.


	5. Little red riding hood

**Little red riding hood**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Grace, Bella realized in fairly short order, was terrified. Terrified of class, terrified of new people, but mostly terrified of being tempted into anything fun. Aside from that, she found her to be a pretty neat person.

Grace didn't do much beyond attend class, eat her meals alone, and study in their room. As the weather cooled, it became a cozy thing, to chat together at night. She missed her many siblings, her family, and her "mothers."

Bella had a hard time wrapping her head around the concept, but thought it sounded loving. And everyone, she knew, could do with more love.

Jacob's visits were few, and it would be Thanksgiving before she went home herself. They talked, when they could, and e-mailed too, but it was difficult, between the demands of school, and the distance, to nurture what they had.

Grace had daringly, Bella thought, asked her about Jacob, and what they did, one quiet, rainy night.

"Oh, we go to the beach, and ride our bikes together."

"Bicycles?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed "to go places?" She associated them with children, and the clean-cut apostates who tried to proselytise to them.

"No," Bella shook her head, chuckling, "Dirt bikes, you know, vroom-vroom," she said, turning an imaginary shift, "Thrill seeking," she grinned. "And just spend time together. He's funny, Jacob, makes me laugh."

Grace's blush preceded her next question. "You're not married, so," she paused, "do you—?"

Bella thought it would be cruel to let her squirm, "make out?" She smiled, watching Grace nod.

"We just kiss, Grace. I'm not ready for more."

Grace considered this for a bit. "I'm surprised, I thought—I didn't expect that for a girl like you."

Bella raised her eyebrows at the judgement.

"I don't mean that you're a bad person, just, I didn't expect you to be chaste, that's all. I didn't think others had those values, like us," her voice trailed off, as did her comfort level. "Well, I've got to study, I suppose, before bedtime," she finished, awkwardly, pulling out her books.

"Sure Grace," Bella said, smiling, her voice holding a tiny note of condescension. "I'm going to go get something to drink. Want anything?"

Grace, still uncomfortable, shook her head, and Bella wandered down to the dining hall with her cup. Filling it with hot water, and dropping in a tea bag, she sat at one of the tables by the window. Ben, and his friends Patrick and Dennis had wandered in, waving at her. Dennis and Patrick sat down at a seperate table, but Ben came and joined her.

"Hey Bells," he began, irking her with the name she associated with Jake, or Charlie.

"Hi Benjamin," she answered, hoping he'd catch her hint.

"Want to go to a party on Friday?"

"Maybe," she wasn't sure if Jake would be coming, but knew it was unlikely.

"Big frat kegger, by invite only," he said, his voice trilling over the words.

"I'm not much of a drinker," Bella said, shaking her head.

"Sure, but I think Cathy would like it if you went. Please?" he asked, pretending to bat his eyelashes at her.

She snorted. "You want to go with her, but you're asking me?"

"Actually," he said softly, "I've kinda already told her you're coming to, so she doesn't feel so weird about it. Please? Pretty please?"

And so, Bella found herself that Friday night, in Cathy's room, suffering the application of makeup. She put up her hand when Cathy pulled the mascara out. "Nope! We all have our standards. Back off." Cathy's roommate had snorted at this, muttering something about "mormons" under her breath.

Bella let the insult, so squarely aimed at her roommate, and defacto, at her, slide. She'd heard some nasty comments in the dining hall, and had made a point of sitting with Grace at breakfast when she had time.

She wondered if she needed to something more. Ugly comments led to uglier things. Grace wasn't her best friend, or even a friend, really, but she deserved better than the hasty judgements people threw around

Suitably attired, Cathy pronounced they were ready to go. Her sleeveless black dress was stunning on her, and Bella felt underdressed in her jeans, and red blouse, but she hadn't brought much with her in the way of dress clothes.

"You both look amazing!" Ben crowed, when he saw them, holding out both his elbows hopefully. Bella had laughed, but humoured him, and they'd walked over to the Delta house together. The path led them through several dark areas, and Bella lost her footing twice, to a chorus of snickers from her friends.

"So," Ben said, "what can I get you ladies? Beer, or beer?" he asked, gesturing to the several kegs around.

"Surprise me," Cathy said, rolling her eyes.

"I'll take what she's having," Bella added.

Cathy's dress had caught the attention of several of the Frat house occupants, including a pale looking boy with a shock of red hair, who quickly engaged her in conversation. She walked away with the boy without so much as a backwards glance at Bella, who smiled, wondering what poor Ben was going to make of this.

"Sorry," she said, when arrived back, three drinks precariously balanced together, and looked over in the direction Cathy had gone.

She thought it was strange that he didn't look that disappointed.

"Oh," he said, watching her, a look of confusion on his face.

Bella wasn't sure what to say. This was a position she hadn't found herself in before.

"I guess I'll just have to hang out with the prettiest girl in the room, then," he said lightly, sitting down beside her, handing her a drink.

She blushed, uncomfortable with the compliment.

He's just being friendly, she told herself. Nothing more.

The 'festivities' planned by the frat boys soon began, and Bella watched with detached interest, a game of beer pong, and a couch-potato race, glad she wasn't participating.

By around ten, she was tired, and ready to head home.

Cathy, however, looked like she was just getting started.

"I can walk you home, Bella, if you're done," Ben said, looking at Cathy, and then back at her. "I'll come back for Cathy afterwards."

"Sure you wouldn't mind?" Bella asked, stifling a yawn, feeling uncertain of the way home, and suddenly mindful of all the dire warnings they'd been given not to walk alone on campus.

"Not at all," he said, offering her his arm.

It reminded her, of someone else, and she took a deep breath in, stilling the memory. She didn't take his arm, but walked beside him, a careful space apart.

They were halfway there, she thought, if her time estimation was right, in the middle of a dark, and well treed square of park, abutting the campus amphitheatre.

"It's pretty here, hey?" Ben asked, his words slightly soft at the edges.

"Yeah," Bella said, squinting in the dark, trying to get a better sense of where they were. She thought it would be prettier if it weren't quite so dark.

"So, enjoyed your first kegger?" he asked, "Got to witness beer pong," he made it sound like an accomplishment.

"Sure," she said, chuckling, "it was OK. I'm just not much of a party person."

"It was nice to go with you." Ben said quietly.

Something in his voice made her look sideways at him. It was too dark to get a good read on his face, but what she could see was too soft, to open, for the kind of friendship they had.

They ambled onwards, Ben brushing up against her more than she felt was necessary, but she said nothing, eager to get back to the dorm.

The next building they came to was lit, but poorly so, and Bella was having a hard time figuring out where she was. "I don't remember coming this way," she said, looking at him again.

"No," he smiled, turning to face her, "You wouldn't. I'm shamelessly taking the scenic route with you," he grinned.

"Ah," Bella said, feeling a wave of annoyance. "You didn't seem very disappointed about Cathy meeting someone at the party."

"Was my ruse so thin?" he asked, stopping, taking her hand.

She pulled her hand away. "I'm seeing someone, Ben," she reminded him.

"Sure," he said with something approximating a sneer, "a high school student."

"I'd like to go home, Ben." She was running out of patience, annoyed at his delay, angry at being lied to. Taking a step back from his approach, she found herself backed up against one of the trees that lined the building.

He put his hands on her hips, "sure you don't want to go home with me?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked. "Or are you afraid of men with experience?" It was said with a grin, but it was uglied by the droop in what she could now see were very bloodshot eyes.

A drunken Ben. Great.

She moved her arms to shove him away at the shoulders, but was surprised by his quick, and powerful grip of her hand.

"Let go," she said quietly, clenching her teeth, not wanting to show her fear.

She was making a rapid assessment of her situation. She was alone, it was dark, and she wasn't sure if someone would hear her scream. From the strength in his hand, she was gauging that he could likely overpower her. What had Charlie said? Go for soft parts. Right. Things that hurt. Ears, eyes, toes, crotch.

Ben was not letting go. His fingers were tight over her wrist, and he said, "come on, why be with a boy, when you can have a man, your own age?"

She was done. With her free hand, she moved to smack his ear, bringing her knee to his crotch. He saw it coming, either in her eyes, or the tensing of her body, and he blocked her, both his hands holding hers. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was, at best, revolting, the smell of beer rank on his tongue. He had moved his legs apart, to brace himself, and she leveraged her knee to make her point.

She didn't have a chance to make contact though, because Ben was crumpled over, an impossible ten feet from her, moaning into the grass.

The chill, and smell, of another body passing between them was still fresh under her nose. She was stock still, shaking, her body telling her what had happened, and her mind denying it. Ferociously.

"You BITCH!" Ben yelled at her, "You fucking, ice-cold bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She said nothing, still trembling, from what he'd done, and from what she knew had come between them.

It was the voice, the voice she hadn't heard in months, that made her move.

"Go, Bella, now!" it yelled at her.

So she did.

Blindly. When she reached a building that was open, she ducked inside, sitting down on one of the benches along the wall. She sat there for some time, trying to make sense of what had happened. Trying to figure out if she was losing her mind.

Again.

She wished she'd brought her phone, cursed herself for leaving it in the room. She'd been worried about losing it at the party.

"Scuse me miss, you alright?" A voice called.

The shoes in front of her looked industrial. Black, familiar, like the ones, and she looked up at the security guard in front of her, like the ones Charlie wore, she realised.

"Bad night?" he said, tilting his head.

"Yeah," she said, "kinda."

"Want me to call someone for you?" he asked, watching the tremble in her hands.

There was no one to call, though. She shook her head.

"You gotta a way home then?"

"Actually, no, my friend kinda ditched me," she lied, figuring it was the simpler explanation.

"Night bus'll be comin' round in about ten minutes, if you want to get on it," he said. "Know where?"

She shook her head, "what's that?"

"Campus bus, runs Fridays and Saturdays, goes around to all the residences. Starts to get known as the puke-mobile right about now," he said, his face twisted in distaste. "Still, gets you where you need to go."

Bella thought the pukemobile sounded way better than wandering lost on campus. "Thanks, where do I get on?" she asked, standing.

He showed her, and she waited in the pool of light by the stop, forcing herself to take deep breaths until the physical shake left her.

When she reached the safety of her dorm, she was grateful that Ben was nowhere in sight, and that the bus hadn't lived up to the security guard's gruesome estimation.

The room was dark when she reached it, and she curled herself into bed, fully clothed, trembling into a disturbed sleep.


	6. Big, bad, angry wolf

**Big, bad, angry wolf**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Bella?" Grace's voice called softly, "Bella?" she said again.

"Tcha, yah," Bella said incoherently, sitting up in bed, "What's up?"

"Sorry," Grace started, "I had to turn your phone off, last night."

"Oh," Bella said, wondering why she was telling her this.

"It was ringing, a lot, and I was trying to sleep, and I didn't think you'd want me to answer it. Maybe you should check your voicemail?"

"Sure, yeah, thanks—sorry about it waking you up," she added.

Turning it on, she could see a call had been made, but while she was out, to Jacob. She turned to ask Grace, but she was slipping out the door, her toiletries in hand. She reasoned that Grace must've dialed inadvertently while she was trying to turn it off.

There was only one voicemail, from Jacob. "Hey, you called me, but then you didn't pick up. What's up? Call me back, or I'm coming to check on you."

She chided herself for not checking for calls the night before, and dialed him.

"You sound upset," Jacob said, not fooled by what she thought was a cheery greeting.

"I'm tired," she admitted. That was truthful.

"Sure that's all?" he asked, his voice suspicious.

"Yeah, just tired, went out with friends last night."

"Party girl."

"Sure, Jake, sure," she smiled. He knew her better than that.

"I'm coming tonight—try to make it late afternoon, OK?"

She brightened at the thought. "That'd be great!"

Their arrangements made, Bella figured she might as well pull herself out of bed.

Grace was stepping into the room as she was getting her own bathroom things together.

"Hey Bella, I'm going to be gone tonight, and tomorrow. Staying with family friends—The Tanners—for meeting tomorrow."

Meeting, right, that meant church.

"Sure," Bella said. "Have a…" what did you say to someone who was going to church? "good time," she offered kindly.

Grace stopped for a second, clearly working up to something, "you could come too, if you want," she said shyly. "They wouldn't mind."

"Oh," Bella said, slightly panicked at this clear effort to save her soul, "I can't...Jacob's coming tonight," she smiled, not suggesting they do it another time.

Grace offered that instead. "Maybe, another time?"

"Maybe," Bella said, figuring that encompassed a lot of never.

They said their goodbyes, and Bella, noting the tasks for the day, determined that laundry was topmost on her list of things to do.

With her basket tucked under her arm, Bella skipped down the stairs to the basement and the laundry room. On the main floor, she caught sight of Cathy coming into the building, still wearing her black dress.

"Hey," Bella said, suddenly concerned. "I thought—Ben said he was going to go back and get you."

"He did?" She asked, utterly surprised. When she saw Bella nod earnestly, she said "No idea. Didn't talk to me about it. Besides," she grinned, "I was happy to stay," and then she winked at Bella. "You and Ben—?" she asked.

Bella's vehement "No!" made Cathy shrugged, waltzing a little unevenly off to her room.

Bella fumed down to the laundry room. Why would Cathy think they'd—? Unless, Bella realized, Ben had been clear with everyone, except her, about what he wanted last night.

She didn't know for certain, but it made her feel distinctly uneasy about Cathy.

The rest of the day trickled by in spurts of activity: papers, reading, lunch, more reading, research, putting laundry away, and finally, a late-day shower.

Putting her clothes away, she saw something under her bed, and moaned. She'd missed her shirt from last night. Tossing it in the laundry basket, it would just have to wait until next week.

The knock at the door startled her. "Safe to enter?" Jacob's voice called.

"Yes," she said, opening the door, smiling at him.

His kiss, this time, had no holds barred, and she found herself held up by the pressure of his body, against the door, his hands exploring, with interest, the substance of her hips.

It refreshed the revulsion of the night before, and she had to literally push him away with an angry shove.

"Stop!" she said, when he went to move back. "Can we just agree that we'll say 'hi' first, and then work up to this?" she asked.

"Sure," he smiled, "hi!" and then he moved to pick her up again.

"Jacob. Enough. I mean it." Her voice was angrier than she meant it to be.

He pouted, but held her hand, and sat down with her on the bed, his foot scooting her laundry basket out of the way.

As it slid across the floor, he stiffened, turning his head towards it, and then back at her. It was quick enough that Bella didn't notice, and he didn't want to bring it up, afraid of frightening her. But he would need to deal with this, and soon.

"So," he said instead, "meet any new interesting people last night?"

"No," she said, "just a stupid frat party. Lots of drunk people playing drunk games."

"Really?" he asked, curious to know just what kind of games people played while drunk.

She filled him in on the more entertaining details, and he felt himself relaxing into the easiness of her company. It was dinner time before they knew it, and they made their way to the dining hall hand in hand.

They had just finished dinner, and were debating the merits of Jello over pudding, when Ben brushed by. Without breaking his stride, he leaned down by Bella and whispered, "come on by when you ditch the puppy," and then walked away, winking at her and then turning back to his friends at the door.

Bella felt herself go pale, and then a vibrant shade of pink.

Jacob clearly hadn't heard what he'd said, but watching Bella, said, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," she said, "just him being an ass," and slipped herself back into the dessert debate.

Jacob had insisted they couldn't really finish their argument until they'd sampled both the dining hall's offerings. He'd finished what she couldn't, and she marvelled again, at the capacity of his stomach.

"Maybe you can gain my freshman fifteen for me?" she suggested, giggling as he patted his stomach and puffed out his cheeks.

He reached her door before she did. "What's this?" he asked, pulling off the post-it note. "Thanks for a great night. Come back soon, Ben."

He suddenly felt like he needed to be somewhere else.

Like, now.

He slammed the note onto her door, and turned, a wall of anger fuelling his walk.

"Jake, wait!" she called after him, but he was gone, his lope a run by the stairs, and his run a sprint at the door.

She read the note, and crumpled it into an angry ball in her pocket.

She picked up the phone, and called Jacob's house. She knew he wouldn't be back for hours, but she needed her message to be waiting for him.

"Hi Billy, it's Bella. Yeah, not so good—Can I leave a message for Jacob? And can you write it down exactly as I say it, please? It's important."

She could hear his eyebrows brushing the receiver when she gave him the words to use.

"You sure, Bella?" he asked.

"Utterly," she spat out, and then, remembering who she was talking to, "thanks Billy, sorry to make you the messenger."

He gave a sympathetic grunt, and with a quick 'bye,' the phone line clicked.

Then, she went downstairs, against her better judgment, to room 201.


	7. Room 201

**Room 201**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It had been stupid, really, to think that someone like Ben, who would go out of his way to make trouble for her—ignore her wishes in the first place—to listen.

He'd laughed, seeing her, and told her "Just relax, Bella, I didn't mean anything by it."

She'd been enraged. Infuriated. She wasn't the sort to wish harm, but she wanted a lot of it to fall on Ben. And quickly.

He'd fueled her ire by reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. She had smacked his hand away, and he'd chuckled. "I like angry. There's a lot of passion behind it."

She'd given up at that point and walked away.

Too keyed up to sleep, or do anything productive, she'd gone for a walk along one of the well lit paths towards the library, where she fumed and moved through the stacks, looking for something to distract herself with.

The old main library was one where you could get lost, the numbers bleeding together in their warren-like rows, the five floors similar and confusing. She'd heard the rumours about the homeless people who slept their, blithely undetected by equally lost student librarians.

When she found a copy of Romeo and Juliet on the floor, staring at her accusingly, between the aisles of neatly arranged books, she took it as a sign that she should head back to her room, and did, trying not to read anything beyond the literal into it.

She had left her phone, again, she realized, on her bed, and felt a stab of disappointment when she checked it. No texts. No voicemails.

She was stuck in the limbo of waiting.

It sucked.

The morning brought a sweet form of relief, literally, in the form of Jacob, curled up on the floor by her bed.

"Jake?" She said, not quite believing her eyes.

"Hey," he said sleepily, sitting up.

"What are you doing here?" She was confused, tired, and everything felt hazily unreal.

"Got your message, came right back," he said. "Sorry."

Bella felt a stab of guilt. It was a five hour drive on a good day, and he'd run it three times in the last twenty four hours.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I'm sorry about the message too, I was really...I was really angry."

He didn't say anything, but picked her up, sliding her onto his lap on the bed, arms wrapped securely around her.

"I love you," he said softly.

She smiled, "ditto."

He nuzzled her neck. "What happened, Friday?"

She stiffened immediately. "What do you mean?"

"You were upset yesterday, and you're a terrible liar, Bella. Something happened. Why won't you tell me?"

Crap.

There were some other words she thought too.

Sighing, she lifted his hand, holding it with one of hers, and playing with his fingers with her other. It was easily twice the size of hers. "Yes, something happened. I just...it wasn't that big of a deal."

Jacob could tell, with a growing sense of worry, that it was, and, that she wasn't ready to talk about it. So, he let it sit, unchallenged, and nodded, waiting.

"On the way back from the party, Ben was kinda drunk, and he tried to kiss me. Well, he did kiss me. So I kneed him—ow, Jacob, that hurts!"

"Sorry," he said, releasing his arms, and standing, "where is he?"

"No way. Uh-uh. No going ballistic wolf on me," she said, shaking her head.

"Fine," he said grimly, "I'll just start knocking on doors."

"Yeah, I'm sure that would go down well," she muttered. "Seriously, you asked why I didn't tell you? Have you figured it out yet?" The anger was building in her gut.

Jacob forced himself to be calm, momentarily, "Bella, he didn't just get drunk and make a pass at you, he got you alone to do it, and then tried to fuck with our relationship. You don't think that deserves some words?"

"I already tried," she said, gritting her teeth. "And he laughed."

"Yep," Jacob said, "sounds like the kinda guy who needs hands to punctuate the message." He stood up, and she did too. "You don't need to come with me, unless you want to watch," he said softly. "I promise not to hurt him, but I want him to understand that he doesn't mess with you, or me—OK?"

"You promise you won't hurt him?" she asked, not sure she quite believed this.

"On the pack, I promise," he said, his voice low and certain.

"OK," she breathed out, "room 201."

She followed him, the banging rattle of his knock loud in the empty hallway. It was just after eight, and the floor was ghostly quiet.

"Hold on," came a drowsy voice from the other side of the door. Bella was grateful that Ben didn't have a roommate they were waking up, at least. She swallowed, when the door opened, and he saw her first, "Oh, hey Bella," he smiled, and then frowned, catching sight of Jacob. "Sorry, baby, don't do threeways," and he turned to close the door.

Jacob caught his arm, pulling him back outside. "Hey," he smiled broadly, his tone light and friendly, "it sounds like you really upset Bella, the other night."

Ben took quick stock of the hand on the arm, Jacob's size, and shrugged. "Whatever," he said.

Jacob's smile made the words all the more menacing, "She made me promise I wouldn't hurt you, right Bella?"

Bella nodded, not liking her part in this conversation. Not liking this version of Jacob.

"So I won't. This time."

Ben was still trying to play it cool. "Uh-huh," he said, eyebrows expectantly up, impatient.

"But if you touch her without an invitation, or upset her again, it's a whole different story. OK?"

Ben rolled his eyes, "fine, dude, whatever," he said, pulling his arm away. "You fricking hicks are so prudish," and then he slammed the door in their faces.

"Are you really going to make me keep this promise, Bells?" Jacob asked, still glowering at the door.

"Yes," she said, pulling him away, "he's not worth it. Come on, let's go to breakfast." She didn't like the anger that was rolling off him. It was frightening.

Jacob's stomach rumbled at this point, and he switched gears, taking her hand, and squeezing it lightly.

She shivered.

He stopped, his face worried. "You OK?"

She looked at him, before she answered, "I don't like violence Jake. Or threats. And I don't need a big, bad, angry wolf to stand up for me. I can solve my own problems."

Jacob disagreed with this point, but kept it to himself, letting the day carry them into more pleasant, and distracting activities.


	8. Sharper than a knife

**Sharper than a knife**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's notes: Some of you are going to lose it over this chapter. Apologies in advance. And, just in case you missed it, this story is rated M for several reasons.

* * *

"I want you," she'd said, without preamble, and had then locked his bedroom door.

She'd arrived, unannounced, and early for Thanksgiving break, surprising Jacob after school.

That she had kissed him, wordlessly, was a surprise, as he opened the door.

That she had pushed him back into his room, hands still locked around his neck, was a shock.

Not that it was unpleasant.

No.

But he was starting to feel the press of anxious expectation.

Things hadn't gone well the last time clothes had been removed. It had taken every ounce of willpower and self control to pack up the desires loosed, and stow them safely away, his body trembling and vibrating, dangerously close to becoming its other self.

That had been challenging. It was even more so, watching her shiver on the beach, the protection of his bodily heat removed. He'd recovered quickly, but he hadn't quite forgiven himself, seeing the clutch of cold take her, after they'd swum together. Done other things, together.

He'd asked Sam, after that near-disaster, in an uneasy conversation, if there was anything he needed to know.

"Like, about sex, in general?" Sam had looked horrified.

Jacob had flushed uncomfortably, "No, I mean, like...for us."

The us clarified his point.

"Oh," Sam said, "actually. Yes. There is." He had looked at Jacob, and asked, "have you ever, before—?"

Jacob's head shake was clear.

"OK, well, you need to be...in control, first of all."

Jacob nodded.

"And," Sam blew out a breath, "at the end," and he blushed, "the urge to...bite, is strong."

"Did you—?" Jacob blurted out, then stopped, seeing Sam's look.

They'd sat for a bit, and Sam had said, softly, "You and Bella, you seem...happy together," but there was a hesitation in it, like he couldn't say it for certain himself.

Jacob had looked at him, a little perplexed. "Yeah, we are." He wondered why Sam had sait it that way.

But now, he was looking at Bella, who had straddled him on his bed, and felt the brief flutter of panic inside: was he in control? Enough?

Her t-shirt slid off the bed, where she'd dropped it, and he was admiring the lovely way her breasts sat, pooled in the lace of her bra. She didn't stop him when his fingers brushed over them, moaning pleasurably instead, her own lips exploring behind his ears.

The sound became a surprised squeal as he reversed their positions.

"So," he smiled, "not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?" He said this, as his mouth repeated the work of hers, only, with a force that made her gasp.

She was grateful that it gave her a moment to think, because the truth was an uglier thing than she wanted to bring to his bed.

She'd held a knife to her wrist earlier that day, and willed it to do damage not easily undone.

A small, illogical part of her brain blamed Grace, but the greater part held the appropriate party accountable.

They'd gone shopping. A last minute desire on Grace's part to bring a few trinkets to her siblings, a taste of the coastal world. Bella, in a fit of procrastination, had decided that shopping was definitely better than studying. They'd parked, and wandered the streets downtown, flitting through the shops and malls. It was after they'd passed the exchange, and Bella had discovered, to no great surprise, one of the many pools of ignorance Grace possessed—she had no idea what the stock market was, or how it worked.

They'd been waiting to cross the street, and Bella had been explaining how stocks functioned, running over the financial architecture that—and she avoided the name, carefully—had illustrated for her. Bella had turned, without looking, to cross, the switch of red to green flickering in her peripheral vision, when Grace's squawked "BELLA!" made her trip further, or so she thought, into the intersection.

The whoosh of the bus, missing her by bare inches, was far colder than it should have been, and she was surprised to find Grace's hands clutching her arm. "That bus," her roommate said, paler than her usual self, "almost hit you. You have to be more careful, Bella," she said sternly, "you could get hurt."

It was the smell though, that had lingered, unhinging that locked box of memory.

Grace left early for the holiday, a long bus trip home. Her surprising hug goodbye made Bella smile, made her realize there was a friendship growing. "Have fun with all your moms," she told her, "tell your siblings all about your crazy roommate."

The self-deprecating comment wasn't all humour.

Then, she'd been left alone with her thoughts, and her memories.

A dangerous mixture.

She'd never told Jacob about the voice she'd heard. It had faded, finally, in the early summer, much to her relief, and she'd only heard it once since—that night, with Ben.

It was harder to ignore a smell though, and Bella knew, if anything would summon this ghost, or its voice, it was her blood.

She'd dangled so long over the edge of sanity last year, it was easy to slip over it again, be uncertain where the lip of that cliff was, to find herself falling one minute, where solid ground had been momentarily before.

This was how she'd found herself outside, secluded in the small copse of trees she'd pointed out to Jacob, with Charlie's utility knife in her hand.

He'd given it to her just as she was leaving. Put it in her hand as they stood at her car. "No," he'd said, when she hesitated, "they're handy. You won't have any tools there, never know when you need something. Besides," he'd smiled, "this is the one you'll probably need most," and he pulled up the bottle cap remover. "Just don't drive after you have." He'd smiled, knowing she wouldn't really, but his point had been made, on several fronts.

The blade, as she pulled it up, shone dully under the light of the cloudy day. She knew it was sharp. Knew Charlie would never give her a dull one.

She hadn't forgotten his request, ever. No, that she not be reckless. She laughed, leaning against a tree, looking at the knife, thinking unflattering thoughts about him. She regretted it immediately. The small hole, so well patched by Jacob, flared open, painful, and wild.

Fine then. Let's get this over with, she told herself.

The first attempt was a shaky stab that ended with the knife miraculously out of her hand, point down in the dirt.

It was so plausible, that she could have dropped it, fumbled it, that she laughed. How like him, to make it look real.

She paused before she tried again, the wandering thought, that if she was wrong, she might have a difficult conversation with the wily nurses at student health services. There would be no talking her way out of this. No.

Her grip was firmer this time, but the knife was gone again before it touched her wrist, flat on the ground, as if she'd simply dropped it.

"Fine," she gritted out, and slid to the base of the tree, curling herself over her left wrist protectively.

This time, she felt the cold hand that wrapped around her wrist, another prying the knife from her fingers.

"Please," the crystal voice whispered, "you promised."

She wanted to scream at him, tell him what he'd promised her, but couldn't. His words, his breath, his smell, they washed over her, and the air was knocked from her lungs.

She could only tremble, staring at the hands she could feel on her body, and ask, trying to make herself sane, to feel that what she felt was real, "are you...real?" It was barely a breath.

"Of course."

She didn't dare linger, but turned her head, scrambled up, and away, the knife forgotten. She knew she couldn't really outrun him, but ran anyway, scrabbling up the stairs, slamming the door to her room, leaning against it, shaking, waiting for the adrenaline to end.

And suddenly, she decided she didn't want it to.

She threw her clothes on the floor, changed, grabbed her half-packed things, and made her way to her car. She was sure she'd left half the things she might need in her room, but it didn't matter. She just needed to be gone.

She needed Jacob. Something real, something warm. Something that tied her squarely to the earth, and sanity.

And so, she'd found herself banging on his door, still breathing heavy hours after the knife, still remembering the other hands that had touched her, and wanting, so very badly, to feel wanted.

To feel worth wanting.

Jacob repeated his question, stopping himself from touching her, needing to know why.

"Because I want to Jacob. Does there need to be a bigger reason?" She said, and pulled him back to her.

Jacob decided there didn't need to be.

But he still worried, and his next kiss was an anxious one.

For starters, he was worried he wouldn't be able to stop immediately, or worse, that he would hurt her—god knows he'd bruised her enough, his strength still new to him. She'd never complained, but he'd been horrified, seeing the dark marks on her arms, the first time he'd held her as more than a friend.

She was fishing in his bedside table, and the crinkling plastic sound became a small flat square in his hand. He took it, the shock of it in his hand emboldening his body's reaction to her.

Bella slipped her bra off. And then the rest of her clothes.

Jacob removed his sole item of clothing, and pulled her back to him, sitting up, her legs around his waist, the condom still pressed in his hand.

He figured he should put it on, but his hands were greedily exploring the geography of her body, and he had no desire to rush his discoveries.

He was surprised then, when she took it from his hand, ripped it open, and applied it with a well practised hand. His gasp, as she grasped him, was only partially stifled.

The anxious weight of her expectation was suddenly heavier.

 _Had she—?_

He really hoped he didn't regret asking this next question. Taking her hands in his, and stopping her momentarily, he blew out a large breath from his cheeks. "Bella," he started, clearing his throat, "have you—have you been with someone?"

He'd known she hadn't, not in the summer, but he wasn't sure about now. The answer wouldn't change how he felt, but it mattered.

She looked at him, horrified, her jaw opening, and closing. Her voice was indignant. "You think, I—"

He put a finger to her mouth, "No," he said quickly, "and it wouldn't matter to me if you had, I just...I haven't done this before. I don't know what your expectations are, and if it's your first time, I don't want to hurt you, and—" He was babbling.

She mirrored his gesture, bringing her finger to his mouth.

"No," she said, shaking her head, blushing, but smiling, "I haven't."

Jacob hadn't appreciated that her blushes began mid-torso, and traced the line of origin with his fingers, kissing her. he was relieved to feel her hands slide around him again.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, his lips behind her ear, "and because I haven't done this before," he swallowed, "I'm kinda nervous."

"I think we'll figure it out, Jake," she said, smiling as he kissed her forehead. The desperation for his touch, for his solid weight over her, was pressing, thumping inside her. It felt like she was struggling for air, she wanted him so much.

She laid back down, and drew with her, the movement of her hands, and the angle of her knee articulate invitations.

He let his eyes move over her as he kissed her, his hands studying the curves and undulations of her torso, as she tilted her hips upwards.

The sound in her throat, as their bodies joined together, made him stop. He could see her breathing was shallow, her eyes closed, and knew he was hurting her. His own body was urging him to continue, and the tremble of restraint rumbled through his arms. "Bella?" he asked softly, "you OK?"

She nodded, "I'd rather you did this part quickly, please," she whispered, flinching as he moved slightly.

"OK," he said, feeling his gut clench. He kissed her softly, and then moved, an abrupt thrust. He could feel her strangled cry under his chest, her fingers digging their grip into his shoulders, as she tried to clutch at the pain.

She needed, as strange as she knew it was, to cling to every feeling—from the strange sensation of her flesh stretched, and full, to the heat of him, so different from her own temperature, that it made her gasp. She wanted something real to hold in her mind, even the downward sliding pain that was reducing to a slight sting as he found his rhythm.

He was real. This was real. It anchored her to the earth, his body literally palpating her own, assuaging the anxiety over what was substantial, or imagined.

Her tears alarmed him at first, but when he slowed, worried she was hurting, Bella's startled "no—don't stop," reassured him.

It was getting harder to control himself, and the movement of his body grew larger, more exacerbated. He could feel her tensing, the strain of her hands hard against his chest. Her startled breath, and the release of her fingers' grip met the tipping point of his mind, pushing him into a stratosphere of sensation.

The urge to bite was sudden, and while he'd expected it, it still caught him off guard. The jointure of her shoulder, and neck, were throbbing still with her heavy breathing, and he found his lips there, promising himself that he would only kiss her. His teeth, though, had other ideas, and Bella's cry was one of pain, unmixed with pleasure.

Her startled "Jacob!" stopped him, and he looked in horror at the damage his teeth had done.

"I'm sorry!" he said, pulling back.

"It's OK," she said, sitting up beside him, a hand pressed there.

Recovering himself, he said, "let me look," but she pushed his hand back.

"It's fine," she said, and looking down at him, blushing, added, "you probably want to throw that away though."

"Right," he said, and did, tossing the condom neatly into the garbage. "Please, Bella, let me look. I'm sorry."

She frowned, but moved her hand, and he kissed the top of her head, peering at her shoulder. A perfect replica of his teeth marks lay on the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder.

He swallowed. "The skin's not broken, but you're probably going to have a bruise." He laid his forehead on hers. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know—it was...overwhelming."

"It's OK," she said again. "I'll remember the body armour next time," she joked.

It made him clench with panic. What if he really hurt her? Next time? What if-?

It was then that he became aware of the smell of blood in the room.

Of course, and he chided himself for forgetting.

He quickly dressed, wrapping her in a blanket, kissing her, and then returned from the bathroom with a sanitary pad. He smiled as he handed it to her, "never thought I'd be grateful for having a sister."

She laughed at him, and they nestled together, he discouraging her from putting all her clothes back on.

"I have to go, for now, Jake," she smiled. "I should go see Charlie," she added, finally putting on the rest of her clothes. She moved awkwardly, sore in unfamiliar places, her hips feeling strangely loose. "Come see me, tonight?"

"Of course," he said, taking another kiss, this one bracketed by his hands, running the length of her body. "I love you," he whispered, "don't forget it."

As she drove away, she breathed in the scent of him, committing to her memory, the bodily possession he'd made of her, his form tying hers to the earth in a way her own could not.

These sensations kept away the cutting edge of guilt that pressed dangerously to her chest, stabbing her with every breath.

He loved her.

 _He_ loved _her._

But with the cold hands that had caught her hands that morning, she knew, with certainty, what love was, and what it wasn't.

And she didn't love him.

What she felt, was like a candle, compared to a forest fire.

But she clung, in her darkness, to the candle.


	9. Secrets

**Secrets**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

He had arrived, late that night, to find her waiting for him, book in hand, yawning. He was wet from the run, and when he shook himself off inside, she giggled, holding her arm up to protect her face from the splatter.

"You know, for someone who doesn't like being compared to a dog, you do an awfully good imitation," she said.

He answered by launching himself at her, digging his fingers into her ribs, then swallowing her squeal with his lips.

The negligee she wore offered little coverage, and it rode up her thighs, as he slid onto the bed. She had dug it out of the most infrequented of her drawers, a holding ground of items she'd not bought herself, but couldn't quite bring herself to give away,

"I never figured you for a lingerie kinda girl, but I like it," he said, appreciating the flare of lace that hinted at what was below.

She blushed, and he wondered at it, pulling back. "You OK? I wasn't saying we should—"

"No," she said, "it isn't that. It's who bought it for me, that's all. I wouldn't...buy something like this, for myself," she said, fingering the fabric.

He understood. This fell into the category of those-who-must-not-be-named. Ever. Which was getting harder to do, all things considered.

"You OK?" he asked, watching her.

"Yeah, why?" she said, looking up at him.

He frowned slightly, and his finger touched the mark at her shoulder. It was an angry red, starting to purple at the edges.

She shrugged.

He let his other hand slide down from her hip, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

This elicited another, deeper blush. "I'm a little sore," she murmured.

He sighed. "Bella, remember when you jumped off a cliff, and you told me you were a little sore, and then we realized you had bruised ribs?" he said.

"OK, fine, I'm pretty sore," she admitted, "but nothing you need to worry about."

He groaned, but good naturedly. "Can you just, tell me the truth the first time?" he said, "please?"

This made her squirm, uncomfortably, pulling the bottom of the nightgown down.

Honesty was most definitely not her strong suit.

It wasn't Jacob's either, but he had other obligations that kept things from her.

He'd caught the same sharp odour on his way into town, and knew that he would have to go soon, and join the pack. Sam had forbid him from telling her, and maintained his policy that ignorant people, were happier, and less likely panic. Or intervene. Jacob didn't disagree, but he worried. The scent on her this afternoon had been alarming, and the fact that it seemed to follow her, moreso.

"Do you really find me so dishonest?" she asked.

He smiled, "Yes. Absolutely, when it comes to you admitting you're hurting. If your heart was in pieces, all over the floor, you'd tell me you were fine."

She practically flinched.

"See? You agree too," he said, pulling her onto his lap, enjoying the coolness of her against the heat of himself. Sighing, he squeezed her with his arms, "I can't stay long, I have patrol tonight," he whispered, "but I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

"And to think, I got all dressed up for nothing," she mock sighed, putting her hand against her forehead.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said appreciatively, "feel free to wear it aaaaanytime."

She snorted, "I'm sure I'd be the talk of the table tomorrow at dinner, if I did."

Jacob laughed, "yeah, I can see Sue liking that."

"Sue?"

"Yeah, Sue," he said.

"What has Sue got to do with Thanksgiving?" Bella asked.

"Um, your dad didn't say?"

"No—what's going on?"

"They're dating. Seriously—how do you not know this?"

"My dad is Charlie?" She giggled. "Well, awesome? I guess?"

"Yeah, she's making dinner. Totally awesome!"

"That would be your reaction, Jake. All about the food. OK I will see you tomorrow. Go and do your wolf thing," she smiled, but turned to him first, wrapping her arms around him, head resting on his chest.

"Wolf thing, huh?" He said, smiling.

"Yeah," she said, but her voice was subdued, and he regretted having to go.

She turned out the light once he left, and he watched her window, glad he wouldn't be far.

His assumption was rudely broken, as soon as he phased.

 _Over the line_ , Sam called out, _all of you._

Jacob gasped when he heard why.


	10. Authority

**Authority**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Jacob had stormed into Sam's living room, uninvited, and angry. "What the hell, Sam? You make me leave her, with them?"

Sam had said nothing, but stared him down, the look in his eyes enough to make Jacob's shoulders curve under his authority. It hurt, to feel the weight of it pressing on him, and his small groan was the wolf equivalent of 'uncle.'

"The treaty stands, Jacob. They're here, and that's theirs. They've assured me they'll keep her safe." Sam was facing him, slowly backing him out of the house.

"AND YOU BELIEVED THEM? THEY LEFT HER! WITHOUT TELLING US!" Jacob gasped again, at the end of this, "Fuck Sam, enough!" He was two steps from the door.

"Then accept my authority, and stop fighting it! You had your choice, and you made it. Deal with it!" These last words walked Jacob out of the house, and Sam slammed the door, punctuating his order with the noise.

His voice muffled, but still clear enough, Sam called out, "and you're parked for the night—no leaving the rez until tomorrow. Got it?"

Jacob grimaced, but turned, kicking at rocks as he walked home.


	11. Dinner

**Dinner**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Are you pretending you haven't seen me in forever?" Bella whispered, under the squeeze of his hug.

"I don't need to pretend," Jacob mumbled back, "it feels like forever."

She snorted at this exaggeration, but his arms held a note of desperation. "Sleep well?" he asked, looking at her meaningfully.

"Yeah, why?" She answered, confused by the question.

"Just wondering," he said, his glance running from her shoulder to her hip.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine," she muttered, turning, taking his hand to draw him into the room.

Sue and Charlie were smiling, broadly, in their direction, Seth and Leah in the background, making quick work of a bowl of chips.

When Sue leaned over and Charlie kissed her, Bella stopped mid-stride. She knew, but still, it was another thing to see it.

Charlie didn't miss it, and pulled back instantly, smiling awkwardly at both of them, looking down an.

Sue discreetly disappeared into the kitchen at this point, curling her finger at Jacob, Seth and Leah, "come on, I need some good hands for getting dinner ready. Bella, you catch up with your dad."

"Subtle," Bella said to Charlie, watching Sue, as he drew her into a hug.

"Queen of," he admitted, looking at her, as they let go of each other, sitting down on the couch. Pausing, he asked, "you OK with this?" nodding towards the kitchen, "you seemed kinda, upset." He looked worried, like he'd gauged her reaction wrong.

"Oh, no, Dad, it's great, I'm happy for you, it was just...a surprise to see, that's all."

He'd fessed up over breakfast, his embarrassed flush making Bella feel at home. Renee never blushed over anything, God knows Bella wished she did.

Charlie grunted affirmatively. "You and Jake still seem...happy," he said, his voice precarious over the word.

She looked at him sideways. "You know something I don't?..." she asked.

He shook his head, "no, just...you met someone new, or something, at school?" He looked at her, his face open.

"No," she said, a little too adamantly.

"You sure?" Charlie pushed, his eyebrows up. "Because that would be normal Bella. Jake's...young. You're at college now. No one would judge you if things fizzled out there."

She flushed, looking down. Was it that obvious, how conflicted she was?

"No one at school dad. It's just...it's been about a year since...yeah," she faltered at the ending, feeling the familiar wash of emptiness. "It still...hurts."

Charlie's stomach lurched, remembering the previous fall, and he took her hand, squeezing it.

He regretted his words, about Jacob. If the boy staved off that, he'd take it.

The news he'd kept from her sat uneasily. There would be time enough, later, he told himself. No need to tell her now. In an effort to change the topic, he asked, "so, your roommate still all weird and polygamist and Mormon?"

"Oh, come on Dad, don't be so prejudiced," she said, "She's really nice, just kinda scared, and ignorant."

It was his turn to snort. "So, she trying to convince you to come be a sister-wife?"

Bella smiled at the thought, "No, but she did invite me to church. I declined."

They continued on from there, Bella introducing him to her various professors, friends, and floor-mates.

"It's good you're meeting different people," he said, finally, standing, wanting to get help Sue, which mostly involved her telling him to stay out of the way, with kisses, "broadens your horizons."

Bella wondered, watching Sue and Charlie together, just how broad he wanted her horizons to be. If he didn't approve of Jacob, in some way, who would he approve of?

After their guests had left, several hours later, she asked him, putting away the last few dishes, "do you not approve of Jacob, or something, Dad?"

"I do," he said, "and don't ever think that what I want matters over your own happiness, but," and here he sighed, "don't take this the wrong way. You just...you try to please other people, a lot, sometimes, even when it isn't good for you." He dried the glass she handed him, "you know what I mean?"

She rested, both hands on the counter, hands still soapy, "I guess." She pulled the plug, watching the water swirl downwards. It reminded her, freshly, of the soupy ocean off la Push, of her dive into it last Spring. She hadn't tried to please anyone then. And it hadn't gone well.

They said goodnight, and she trudged up to bed, ready for the silent company of a book.

She considered going to bed in her clothes, but sighed, pulling on the negligee. Her stomach contracted a bit, hoping Jacob wouldn't take it as an overt invitation. She shook her head, she could say no. He wouldn't pressure her.

Finally sliding under the covers, she felt an unexpected cold lump on her back, and reached around. Pulling her hand back, she opened it. Resting on her palm, safely closed, was Charlie's utility knife.

The one she was sure she'd left, running from those ghostly, cold hands.


	12. Not Enough

**Not Enough**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It had felt like the sun had risen, when she'd knocked on his door, a bag of bagels in hand, and she saw him, "Figured food would make me welcome," she said, smiling, asking hopefully, "Coffee?"

"Since when do you drink coffee?" he asked, pulling out the orange juice from the fridge.

"A friend introduced me to good coffee this fall. But I'm not fussy. I like the buzz," she said

Watching her hands, twisted up in the sleeves of her sweater, he thought she was jittery enough, but made a pot anyway.

"You got plans for the day with Charlie?" he asked carefully, sitting across from her.

She shook her head. "No, he actually got called to work today. Sounded like something grizzly got discovered early this morning," she added, not wanting to speculate too much what might have caused it. Looking at him, and down again, she probed gently, "you guys haven't caught wind of anything, have you?"

Jacob wanted to scream 'YES' at her, pick her up, hold her, and attack anything that came to close, but instead, he said "nope," feeling the self-loathing writhing inside of him.

Sam had been livid when Jacob had managed to skirt his gag order, and Bella had found out about the pack. He'd tightened the rules so much, they were practically muzzled, Jacob especially.

"You don't give her hints, you don't answer questions in round about ways, you don't confirm anything she guesses, you don't write it down, you don't do anything, anything, that could possibly tell her anything about what we do, or what we know. You will lie, if you need to, to keep information from her. Understood?"

Jacob had grumbled his 'yes', and held back his anger, not that he had a choice. He literally couldn't say anything. It was like his tongue was being swallowed every time he tried to. Bella hadn't asked anything since they'd last seen Victoria, the past spring.

Sam hadn't rolled his eyes when Jacob had suggested they include the University of Washington on their patrol list, but it had been a near thing. He'd instead, taken Jacob aside.

"I know she's your girl, but we can't protect everyone, everywhere, all the time. Visit her, sure, but remember who your people are, and where they are." He looked at him, pleadingly. He knew that he might have to order him to stay, and he didn't want to, so he cut him slack wherever he could.

"So," Jacob said hopefully, "we could go ride our bikes then?"

Bella grinned, relieved that he hadn't suggested staying home, "that would be awesome!"

Charlie had finally caught wind of the bikes, midsummer, turning a near apoplectic shade of purple when he'd confronted Bella about it.

She had talked him down from the parental ledge he'd climbed up on, reassuring him that they only rode on dirt roads, and stayed well clear of the highways, where he saw the worst accidents. When he'd calmed down enough to ask some practical questions, he'd returned home the next day with helmets—one for Bella, and the other for Jacob. He'd handed over his old leather jacket too, suggesting she might wear it.

Jacob had rolled his eyes at the one for him, but agreed that protective gear was probably a good idea for Bella, at all points in time. She'd suffered the jibe with good humour, but was glad of both items when she came off her bike in August, the back of the jacket shredded, but her skin untouched.

"You got me a new jacket?" she said, clearly horrified that he would spend money on her. He shook his head, "No, Billy's friend had one, but doesn't bike any more. I traded for some yard work. Totally worth it," he grinned, and snatched a kiss before she put the helmet on.

Her stomach contracted guiltily, but the feeling passed quickly, with the roar of the bikes as they headed out to the logging roads.

When they returned, late afternoon, mud-splattered and tired, Jacob sighed, pulling her to him as they walked back from the shed. "Can I convince you to stay for dinner?" he asked, "at least?"

"Actually," she said, her voice tentative, "I was wondering if I could spend the night. Charlie's going to be late. I'd rather be here, if that's OK."

She didn't add that she was afraid, after what she'd found, of being alone at home.

"Of course you can," he said.

Bella thought it was strange that he sounded...relieved.

"I can make up Rachel's bed," he said, "she won't mind." He swallowed, "and you can always sneak into mine, too, if you want. To sleep, I mean, not—" he sighed.

"Yeah, Jake, I get it," she said, smiling at him. "Thank you," she added, more quietly.

Billy had raised an eyebrow when Jacob mentioned that Bella was staying the night, but said nothing else.

It was a stark contrast the conversation she'd had with Charlie that morning.

He'd looked like a fish left on the dock, mouth opening and closing, but no sound emerging. He'd finally managed a strangled, "OK," then asking, a few minutes later, "Billy alright with that?"

She'd given a shrug, "dunno, haven't asked yet," and then met his gaze levelly. "Why wouldn't he be?"

He'd thought about for a moment, and then walked away, not wanting to have the conversation she was daring him to have that early in the morning.

They stayed up, watching a movie, Billy wishing them a goodnight around ten. When he heard the click of Billy's door, Jacob had reached over on the couch, and pulled Bella over with his arm.

She snuggled up to him, and closed her eyes. When he felt her begin to doze, he rubbed her back, asking, "wanna get ready for bed?"

Yawning, she nodded, and went to Rachel's room, slipping on the negligee. It was decent enough, she supposed, running to just below the knees, with the gown that went over it.

She brushed her teeth, and flicked off the light in the bathroom, coming out to find the rest of the house dark, and the door to Jacob's room open, several candles flickering on the small table by his bed.

Oh, she thought, feeling her innards clench.

It had been such a mistake.

A huge mistake.

Did he want to—?

 _Well, duh_ , her mind supplied.

Suddenly, she felt grossly overexposed, and tightened the wrap around her. The lace cutouts down the side didn't offer much coverage, and she wished she'd brought something else—like a mumu, to sleep in.

"Hey," he said, seeing her, "come here, come see." He pulled her into his room, and she couldn't help it, but giggled.

"Seriously? Me, and open flames?"

"Keeps you on your toes," he smiled, and then pulled her to him, kissing her softly, his hands a pleasant weight on her hips. It was almost effortless for him to lift her, sitting himself on the bed, settling her in his lap, the kiss unbroken.

The thin fabric of her clothes allowed her to feel every hardness his body presented, and she blanched, suddenly nervous, and on edge.

Jacob, so normally attuned to her, didn't feel it, and his hands slid under the robe, fingers lightly tracing a path to her hips.

"No," she whispered, "I can't."

He pulled his hands back, tilting his head to look at her. "Are you still...hurting?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, "no, it's not that."

 _Oh God_ , she thought, _how do I explain this?_

She didn't want to explain it.

She barely wanted to admit it.

Jacob sighed, pulling her to him in a hug. "We don't have to do anything, Bella, if you don't want to."

She nodded, still anxious. The tears that welled up with her next breath surprised a choked sob out of her throat.

"Hey, what's up?" Jacob said, shifting so they could see each other.

Her innards felt like they wanted to vomit themselves out of her.

"I regret it," she blurted out. "I regret it. Us. Being together."

There, she'd said it.

"Why?" Jacob asked, stunned. His various insecurities were lining themselves up, asking if they were why. "I mean, I think," he began awkwardly, "it was both our first times. It was...amazing, for me, was it not—I mean i know it hurt—"

"It's not that," she said, taking his hand. "You were wonderful," she stopped, swallowing. "And that's just it—"

"You think you weren't?" he said, incredulous. "How can you—"

Her hands squeezed his again, "no, Jake," shaking her head. "You love me, so much—"

"And you love me," he said softly.

She pulled away, saying the words slowly, "Jake, I do love you, but not the way you love me. Not as much. And it's not fair to you."

"Bella," he said, "we've talked about this. You love me, it's enough."

"No," she choked out, "it's not." Her head was shaking back and forth, trying to cement this for him.

He took hold of her hands again, his grip firm, anxious. "Then let _my_ love be enough. Because it is."

"You deserve so much more, Jake. You deserve someone who can love you the way you love me." She slipped off the bed, turning.

She was trying to manage her feelings, but they'd reached a tipping point. There was no going back now.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his anxiety growing.

"Home," she said.

"Don't," he said, "it's late. Spend the night."

"Jacob," she said, "I can't be with you. We can't. It's not right," and here the tears were too much to let her speak. "I'm so sorry."

Jacob stood frozen, rooted to the spot.

She was leaving.

Leaving him.

"Don't leave," he said suddenly, grabbing her arm. "Just spend the night, please."

She shook her head, and pulled away.

He paced the hall, hearing her change back into her clothes, trying to think of something to compel her to stay, but the words lodged in his throat, each one forbidden. The most dire thing he could muster was, "the roads are dangerous this time of night," which he knew sounded ridiculous.

He couldn't even go with her.

When she emerged, he tried again, as she walked to the door. "Bella," he said, his voice as firm as he could make it, "Stay the night. Please."

"Don't make it worse than it is, Jake," and looked down, waiting for him to move. "I'm sorry, I know I should never have—it was cruel of me," her voice cracked. "You deserve better. You really do."

He grabbed her arm, this time with a grip that was meant to restrain. "No," he said simply. It was all the order would let him produce.

"Jacob, let go," she said quietly, "please."

His other hand was a tight fist, imagining what was waiting for her. He was desperate, and as he tried for words that he was allowed, inarticulate gurgles emerged from his throat.

Bella's face crumpled, watching his distress, attributing it to herself.

 _I deserve this_ , she thought. _I should never have started this._

 _I used him._

The grip on her arm was becoming painful, and she grimaced through it, imagining what he was feeling.

It was only when she whimpered that he realized what he was doing. "Call the Cullens," he said, his voice breaking, and his hand releasing. He opened the door for her, looking down, not wanting her to see his rage at being caged by the order, his inability to even keep her safe, his grief at her leaving.

His failure and inadequacy clawed at him.

"What?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"The Cullens. They're back." With a twist in his gut, he knew what he could say, that would give her protection, even if not with him. "They'll make sure you're safe."


	13. Safe

**Safe**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

He had leaned back against the closed door, listening for the sound of her car, and hearing it, allowed the tears to fall. He chucked his clothes into a corner of his room, angrily extinguishing the candles, and then slipped outside, and into his other self. He ran, in the darkness, until Sam's words claimed him, and he stopped, watching the lights of her car swim through the night.

He could feel the others voices in his mind, but mostly their silence, and their sympathy. And worry.

They could feel his anger—the quiet, shaking rage that vibrated outward through all of them.

Sam flinched, seeing what Jacob had done, but held firm. _She'll be safe_ , Sam said again.

 _It's on you, if she isn't_ , Jacob snarled back.

Bella had managed, but just, to drive herself home. Jacob's last, and most jarring words had simultaneously shown her that she wasn't insane, and ripped open a wound she thought at least mostly sealed. She'd forced her hands to the wheel, forcing herself to breath in and out to regular count of three. It kept the welling hysteria from bubbling over.

When she'd gotten home, and found Charlie's car nowhere in sight, she was further relieved to be alone. She didn't want to face any questions about why she wasn't with Jacob.

The more frightening realization, though, was creeping slowly up her back, its icy claws puncturing her disbelief.

If she needed to be kept safe, it was from something. From someone.

She didn't need to ask who that was.

As for Jacob's suggestion, she practically spat, thinking of them left such a bitter taste in her mouth. Call the Cullens? It was both laughable, and ugly.

That Jacob would throw her back at them, was even uglier.

Her self-loathing bubbled and grew, distending her innards with ease.

She sat on her bed, the bag beside her, and began to mechanically pull items from it. The fabric of the nightgown felt too perfect in her hands, rough from the day's riding. A flare of anger made her ball it up, and then dig through the bottommost, sticky drawer, and extract all the other clothes they'd given her. She piled them in a paper bag, and took them downstairs where she found matches, and an old newspaper.

Outside, she made an efficient fire in the metal trash can Charlie used for burning leaves. When the flames were substantial enough, she threw in the negligee, where it caught, releasing the smell of burning hair. She stepped away, tossing the balled robe on top of it. Seeing it curl and smoke seemed a suitable ending for it.

"Call the Cullens," she spat at the trash can. "Because I didn't try that last year!" She was crying now. "They left." The sobs were harder. She crouched down, trying to make her knees take the air out of her lungs, to compress herself so she couldn't feel the emptiness rip open again.

What she'd done, in being with Jacob, was despicable, but she found herself wishing she'd kept on doing it, because the dull horror of the last fall was refreshing itself.

A new wave of anger gripped her, and she kicked at the can. It hurt her toes, but it made other things hurt less. Her kicks and sobs became more violent, until her foot caught the can above the centre point, making it tip, rolling and turning back towards her, where the embers splashed out of it, and onto her.

Her scream was curdling.

The damage would have been worse, had another body not pushed her down, extinguishing the flames, rolling her over.

When she saw who it was, she scrambled away.

"Bella, stop, you're hurt," Edward said, watching her scuff her hands on the ground, crab walking away from him.

He was beautiful. Still so perfect, even smeared with ash.

It was a crippling kind of agony, to be yet so immobilized by his appearance, that she couldn't even form words, to tell him what he'd done.

So she started throwing things at him.

Of course, none of them made their target, and her incompetence only fueled her anger.

"GO!" she shrieked. "LEAVE! GET OUT!"

She was scrabbling for things to chuck, and he was afraid she would grab something still hot enough to burn her. His face contorted, watching her, so clearly needing help, and not wanting his. With a final, pained look, he disappeared.

She stood, shakily, hissing in a breath as the pain in her leg and hands began to smart, and then sting, the adrenaline leaving her system.

Turning on the hose, she doused the remainder of the fire, and eyed the broom, wanting to clean up, but her leg was beginning to throb, badly, and she decided it was better left for tomorrow.

Inside, she gingerly lifted up the leg of her jeans. Seeing the flesh of her leg oozing on her shin made her stomach churn, as did the thought of trying to deal with it herself. She looked at the clock, and knew that if Charlie wasn't home by now, she was on her own. Stepping slowly to the door, she picked up her keys, and got into her car.

The ER had few patients when she arrived, but it felt like a long time waiting, before her name was called. Watching her limp along, the nurse made her sit in a wheelchair, which irked Bella. She'd never liked being pushed around, and this reminded her too much of her injuries from last year.

"The doctor will be in pretty quick, just wait here," she said, putting the brake on the chair.

Stuck, Bella waited uneasily in the small curtained cubicle, the smells around her potent triggers. The nurse had closed the curtains, and Bella waited uneasily, not liking that she couldn't see who was coming.

It was a familiar voice that murmured to the nurse passing by.

She would have put her head in her hands, if her hands hadn't been hurting so much.

"Hi, Bella," Carlisle said softly.

She stared at him, momentarily stunned by how inaccurately she'd remembered him.

It hurt, having to look at such perfect people.

It hurt more, knowing just how much you measured up.

"Hi," she said back, looking down.

Carlisle sighed. Her discomfort, on so many levels, was crystal clear. "Do you want me to see about finding someone else to treat you?"

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, "I think that might be difficult, at one AM, on Thanksgiving weekend." Her voice was flat, resigned even.

"Yes," he smiled a little, "it might be, but I'm willing to if it makes it easier for you."

She gritted her teeth together, "I think I'd rather just get this done," she said. The memory of the last time he'd treated her was clarifying itself, and she was trying very hard not to think about it.

"OK," he said, scanning her quickly. "Can you change, by yourself, or do you need some help?" he asked, eyeing her leg.

"Help, please," she said, remembering the look of her leg.

The nurse wheeled her to another room, this one with walls, two of which were heavy with cupboards, and equipment racks. Getting her to sit on the exam bed, she looked at Bella's clothes, and said, "there are a lot of burn marks all over, touching a small, charred mark in her shirt. Anything you're really attached to? Want me to try to save?"

Bella shook her head, but was surprised to see the nurse pull out scissors. "It's easier to cut things off, and avoid hurting you," she explained. "A lot of small burn spots get hidden by their bigger friends."

The nurse was seasoned, and kept her face a cool mask as she slowly cut off Bella's clothes, not reacting to the small red spots that dotted her midsection and legs. Her left leg had caught the worst of it, and she was grateful to have the jeans off and not abrading it. The pain in her left arm was a surprise though, and she glanced over, seeing the beginning of a bruise forming there.

When the nurse saw the mark at Bella's shoulder, though, she was glad she was standing behind her. It was an ugly purple shadow, its half moon shape and points immistable.

The clothing removed, she helped Bella put on a loose hospital gown. Looking at the small bundle of clothes, she realized her omission. "I'll be right back with some underwear and a pad," she said softly, and then disappeared.

Carlisle looked at her, when she presented her notes, her hard expression unmistakable. She'd attached the domestic abuse checklist for him, and pamphlets for him to hand over.

The nurse helped Bella slide on the underwear, carefully avoiding the tender spots on her legs.

Even with the memory of her last, and disastrous birthday party freshly recalled to her, Bella had forgotten just how skilled, and precise, Carlisle was. His hands were efficient in their movements, and she was relieved that he demanded only the most essential answers from her as he worked.

Needed elsewhere, the nurse had left, and Carlisle looked at the checklist in front of him, mentally exhaling.

"Everything OK at home, Bella?" he asked, dabbing on an ointment to her arm.

The shift in conversation was mind-bending for her.

 _Everything OK at home?_

How could he even ask that?

She looked at him, feeling like Charlie must have, when she told him she was spending the night at Jacob's.

"Sure," she said, holding back the sarcastic edge in her voice, "just great."

"Do you feel safe there?"

This made her laugh. Hysterically. So much so, that the nurse sidled up to the door, staying out of sight, but listening, in case the doctor needed help.

"Do I feel safe?" she asked, the laughter gone. "Well, you tell me Carlisle," she said, looking at him, her mouth a hard line. "Am I?"

He shook his head, pointing his gaze to the door, and back again. "Do you?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, sure," she said sarcastically, snorting derisively at his concern. "Are we done?"

Convinced that he needed no assistance, the nurse walked away, a little puzzled by Bella's angry familiarity.

"Not quite," Carlisle said. "The nurse saw some serious bruises, and a bite mark." He paused, waiting for this to sink in. "Is someone hurting you?"

There were so many possible answers to this question, most of them involving something less than flattering said about 'your son,' but she kept her answer simple: "No."

He knew it wasn't true. He could see the mark on her arm right in front of him, and he looked at it, and then her again. "Maybe you'd prefer to talk to someone else about it?" he suggested.

She shook her head angrily, trying not to say something she'd regret.

He wondered if she would throw the pamphlets at him if he gave them to her, or just in the garbage. It seemed better to leave them for now.

He sighed. "I have your prescription here," he said instead, writing up his notes.

"For—?"

"Pain medication."

"Don't need it," she said.

"Before you say no," Carlisle started, "please understand that burns can be very, very painful, and rest is very important to healing."

"I'll be fine," she said, standing, acutely aware of how painful it was.

Carlisle looked at her for a moment, and sighed, saying, "alright, I'll phone it in to the local pharmacy, in case you change your mind."

"Fine," she said, grimacing.

"Do you have someone to drive you home?" he asked, offering her a hand to help her stand up.

She shook her head, and stood without assistance.

"Can we call someone for you?"

"No, I'll drive myself."

Looking at her legs, heavily bandaged, he said, "you don't have enough mobility in your leg, Bella. I can't let you drive."

Bella was turning a fiery shade of crimson. "I'll wait 'til Charlie's home then," she said.

"Perhaps," Carlisle said softly, "Alice could drive you?"

Bella's heart cracked a bit at this.

She'd missed Alice. So much.

It was beyond embarrassing to realise that she was crying. She wondered how much more humiliating things could get.

"Sure, if she's free," she managed.

"I'll call her," Carlisle said, and slipped out of the room.

Attired in her coat, a donated t-shirt, and shorts, Bella waited in the small alcove of the ER. Alice was a sudden, and bright spot of colour in front of her.

"Bella," she whispered, her face heavy with emotion.

"Oh Alice," Bella said, limping up to her, and hugging her, not embarrassed by her tears, just grateful to have her friend back. "I've really missed you."

Alice returned the hug, "missed you too." Pulling back a bit she frowned. "But, my God, what are you wearing? And what is that smell? Eww."

"Don't get all emotional on me, or anything," Bella smiled, looking at the clothes. "Yup, hideous. But it was better than leaving naked."

Alice's expression made her dissenting opinion clear, but it softened, seeing Bella's energy flag.

Bella was relieved to see Alice, happy even, but...she didn't want to grow attached. She had no idea how long they would be here, and considering how they left last time, who knew?

Alice could see the shift in her energy, and smiled perkily, "let's get you home."


	14. Burnt, in so many ways

Burnt, in so many ways

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Why didn't you call me?" Charlie asked, his admonishment clear, hearing with surprise, who had driven her home.

"Didn't want to bother you, and it wasn't a big deal," she said.

Charlie did not think second degree burns constituted 'not a big deal', but didn't push the point.

"Dare I ask what you were doing, burning things in the middle of the night? Thought you were going to spend the night with Jake." He had other questions too, but he was working up to them.

Bella brushed her hair out of her face, fiddling with her glass of juice. She'd barely eaten the breakfast Charlie had made—though she was pleased to see it was edible. Tasty even, from what she'd had. Sue must be teaching him how to cook, she realised. Her respect for her grew, as she remembered the many times she'd tried.

She blew out a big breath. "We broke up—well, I broke up with him, actually." It was quiet enough to qualify as a whisper, and she hoped he didn't want more information.

Charlie stared, not expecting this, suddenly worried his comments from the day before had sparked something. "Why? I mean—I know I said something, but you didn't—"

"No," she said, "it wasn't what you said, Dad."

"Then, why?" His eyebrows furrowed.

She didn't want to tell him. It had been bad enough to see the pain and disappointment worn on Jacob's face. She would tell him, eventually, but for now, she didn't have the stamina for his disappointment too. Hers was enough.

"Do we really need to talk about it, Dad?"

He frowned, but said, "No, we don't." Sitting back at the table, he pressed on with the question that had been lurking since early in the morning, when the alert had come in. "But, maybe you can tell me why our address is on the domestic abuse watch list?" His raised eyebrows signaled there would be no evasion of this question.

She rolled her eyes. "It's—"

"Don't tell me it's nothing. They don't send them in for nothing." He didn't add that it was Carlisle's signature on the file. That had been strange enough a conflation.

She opted for an evasion that was approaching a lie. "You know how easily I bruise. We rode our bikes yesterday." She could see Charlie tense as she said it. "I told them everything was fine. They didn't believe me."

And Charlie didn't either. He'd seen the report, felt the visceral clench at the description of the injuries. Burns, bruises, and bitemarks, a fricking trifecta of abuse.

He couldn't bring himself to think it was Jacob, but he knew, in his logical mind, that he was the likely culprit.

He'd looked outside, casually, when she'd mentioned she'd been burning things, but there was no sign of spilled ash. It was as he'd left it, the can cleaned out, neatly stacked by the house. She could have been burning something, but he doubted she would have cleaned it up before going to the hospital.

It didn't add up.

His follow up question was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, and he could see Bella's clenched jaw relax, feeling the reprieve from his interrogation.

"You expecting someone?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she tried to stand to get it, but he shushed her down, and got himself.

"Alice," he said, the surprise in his voice clear. "Good to see you."

As they exchanged their greetings, Bella pushed herself up, and went to the door. "Hey," she said, a little uncertain of why Alice was there.

The bag that Alice set down answered part of her question. "Esme had some extra bandages kicking around, and Carlisle asked me to drop off your prescription," she said.

Bella's jaw clenched again.

She was half tempted to tell Alice where she could shove it all, when Charlie's sincere "Thank you" interrupted her thoughts. He turned to look at Bella, not pleased with her silence. "Please say thank you to them from both of us."

Bella mumbled indistinct thanks, and then excused herself to get dressed.

From upstairs, she could hear snippets of their conversation, quiet as it was.

"Yeah, I heard," Charlie said. "I hadn't mentioned it to her." She couldn't hear what Alice said, but Charlie continued on. "It was like night of the living dead, Alice, and I can't have that happen again." This was said carefully, each word heavy with significance.

Bella missed more of their talk, shuffling through her clothes, trying to find something that wouldn't hurt to wear.

"Jasper and I have both been there. I'm surprised we haven't run into her."

"And Edward?" Charlie asked, a grain of politeness colouring the bitterness.

"Him also," Alice said, more quietly.

Bella wondered if this were true, or more facile Cullen lying. Nothing surprised her anymore, when it came to their subterfuge.

Dressed in her loosest clothes, Bella supposed she should be polite. Her conflicted feelings for Alice made her want to see her, but her judgement warned against any attachment.

As she walked down the stairs, slowly, and carefully, Charlie called out to her. "Bella," he started, "Alice and Jasper are heading back to Seattle tomorrow. They're offering to help you get back too, if you'd like."

She'd hoped, she knew, illogically, that she could drive herself, but having just applied fresh bandages to her leg, knew it wasn't likely.

"Jasper could take our car," Alice said chipperly, "and I could drive yours for you, if you want?"

Bella had few other options, beyond asking Charlie to take the day off to drive her, and knew that would be selfish beyond reasoning. "Sure," she said quietly, "thanks, Alice. I'd appreciate that."

The practical arrangements set, Charlie excused himself to get dressed for the day.

"So," Bella said, sitting down carefully on the couch, "you really taking classes, or just faking it for Charlie?"

Alice gave her a level look. "We registered last spring, just like you."

"That doesn't answer my question, Alice."

"Yes," she said, "we are."

"The campus isn't that big, Alice. Why haven't I seen you?"

Alice frowned. "Because he asked us not to. Said he'd promised you wouldn't see us again," she murmured.

"Yeah," Bella said, "I can tell that's working well."

Alice's expression softened. "None of us wanted to go Bella, to leave you. He insisted—said it was for your safety. If we'd know," she said, shaking her head, "if we'd know half of what would happen, we never would have."

"So," Bella asked, "why now? I mean, the wolves—clearly, you know about them—they're here."

Alice looked at her a good while before answering her question. "I came back in March, Bella." She stopped, watching her carefully, "I saw you jump off a cliff. I thought you'd died."

Bella's face twisted with emotion, hearing Alice's voice crack. Then she remembered how she'd felt, right before she jumped. They'd left, and they hadn't cared how she lived, just how she died.

"So you came back, and?"

"I saw you were safe, and alive, and...with, someone," Alice said quietly. "He asked us not to interfere. He wanted you to be free to be happy, Bella, to have a normal life."

Bella stared at her, blinking, angry tears welling up, and over the rims of her eyes. "So," she began, "if he wants me to be happy, then why is here, sticking himself into my life?"

It was Alice's turn to look at her. "Because he's responsible for Victoria wanting to kill you, Bella. And he'll stay until she's dealt with. We all will. That's why we moved back here—well, Esme and Carlisle, and Rose and Emmett, anyway. It's why the rest of us are in Seattle, Bella."

Bella was trying to take this all in, shaking her head.

She wanted to tell Alice how she had thought she was losing her mind. Going insane. But she said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Alice said. "I know this makes it hard for you to move on. We've tried to stay out of your way, to be discreet, but well, it's been hard," she frowned slightly, thinking of the things Edward had told her.

The conversation paused, Bella processing everything Alice had said.

"Will you stay?" she finally asked. "After Victoria is...dealt with?" She didn't want to think too much about it, shivering, recalling her fiery form. "Or, will you at least let me say goodbye to you, Alice, when you go?" She pushed this out through tears, "because I've missed you, a lot."

"I won't leave you again, Bella," Alice said, "not unless you want me to. He was...wrong," and she shook her head. "That has been abundantly clear."

"Good," Bella said, reaching over and hugging her.

Alice returned the hug, and then said, "but I have a condition."

Bella stiffened, suddenly anxious.

"Nothing unbearable," Alice said with a smile, "well, for most people, anyway."

Bella relaxed slightly, "OK, what is it?"

"You need to let me buy you some clothes, if you expect to be seen together. And yes, you need to wear them too."

She was so relieved, that she caught herself laughing on the edge of tears, these turning into a low groan as she realized what she'd just said yes to. "Alright, I agree." It seemed a small price for a friendship. "Just, just be—reasonable, OK?"

"We'll see," Alice said, still smiling, her own face a study in emotion, but moving towards lightness. "I'm glad you said yes," she added, "because I already bought you something. And, if you're willing, I'll take that abomination of an outfit they sent you home in last night, and burn them for you," adding, "because clearly, you can't be trusted around open flames."

It felt, Bella realized, like a small part of herself had been restored to normalcy, almost like she could breathe without her insides contracting over nothing. Not quite, but almost.


	15. Of all the people

**Of all the people**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

* * *

Of all the people Bella expected to see when she opened her door to an unexpected knock, two Fridays following, it was not Jacob Black.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, his brow furrowed, obviously uncertain of his reception.

"Jacob," she said, feeling stupid, standing there, staring at him. A strange mixture of emotions were playing tug of war with her stomach—shame and anger held the lion's share, but guilt and betrayal had footholds too.

"Can we talk?" he asked anxiously, "please?".

Guilt won out. He'd come all this way.

She nodded, and lifted her chin in the direction of the stairs, and the second floor lounge. It was a quiet room, often left empty because of its poor placement, tucked just beyond the laundry and utility rooms, well out of sight. Excellent for study, but poor for socializing.

They sat, awkwardly, facing each other over one of the cafe style tables.

"So," he said, trying to put her at ease, "I guess you were right about the open flames, huh?" he said, nodding towards the bandage on her arm.

"Yeah, I guess so," she admitted, giving a small smile.

His question had more than one purpose though, and he grimaced as he asked the next one, "what were you doing? Burning stuff in the middle of the night?"

Bella paused before answering. "Do you really want to know?" she asked.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," he said seriously. "Why?"

"I was burning everything they'd given to me, Jake."

"Why?" he asked again.

She'd held her emotions in check so well until this point, but the anger that had surfaced, after she realized what he'd kept from her, was dangerously high.

She stood, unable to sit, facing him for this, and began to pace in the small corner they were in. "She was back, Jacob, and you didn't tell me. And they came back, and you knew, and you didn't tell me." She shook her head, "you sent me out the door with those words, and it was like you were throwing me back at him. I mean—I know I hurt you, but how could you say that?"

He had stood now, too, and reached her with a single stride. "I did not throw you back at him, at all, Bella. I would never do that," he said, the words coming through his teeth.

"Then why didn't you tell me? Any of it?"

He went to answer, but felt his tongue unwillingly slide to the back of his throat. The sound was a fumbled gargle, and he shook his head in frustration. He looked at her, pleading for her to understand what compelled his silence.

She stared at him, hands balled, and her face angry.

He blew out his breath, and sat down, schooling himself to produce the question he'd rehearsed all week, saying it over and over again until he could do it without his voice splintering. "Why do you think you don't love me enough, when I so clearly love you, and want you?"

She breathed in, and out, trying to let the anger go. It was easier, because the guilt and shame shoved it back, taking their pride of place at the front of the line.

"When he left," she began, sitting down again, her voice still tight, "you know what I was like."

He nodded.

"I know you think you saw the worst of it," she said.

He raised his eyebrows at this. There was worse? He remembered her, stumbling around, arm constantly clenched to her midsection, literally trying to hold herself together.

"What I didn't tell you, that night, when we first…"

"Kissed," he supplied, remembering it, vividly. They had talked too, but it was that kiss that had unlocked his heart and shown him what they could be.

She nodded. "And when I told you about what you were getting, in me."

Here he shook his head, still disagreeing with her low self-assessment.

"I didn't tell you everything," she said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "When things were bad, and I would do something...dangerous, or reckless," the word still left a bad taste in her mouth, having had it from his, "I would…" she had to pause, "hear his voice. Like he was right there."

Jacob's face remained calm, but she could see concern growing in it.

It was at this point that Ben wandered into the lounge, catching their eyes, and flicking his away, sensing that he was interrupting something fraught. He went to the vending machine, and after his soda bottle rolled to the bottom, he picked it up quickly and left.

"He still bothering you?" Jacob asked, looking in the direction Ben had gone.

"No," she shook her head. If anything, Ben had made an effort to apologise.

She'd found a small fan at their door, when she returned from Thanksgiving weekend, with a note attached. "December and January are the worst in the cooker. Hope this makes it a bit more bearable." Then, below it, "And, I've been a total jerk. Truly. Sorry. I'd like to make amends, somehow. - Ben"

She had stared at it, Alice asking politely who Ben was, and wondering what he'd done.

She hadn't been able to offer an explanation, because Grace had arrived at that moment. She'd stared, openly awed and wide-eyed at Alice and Jasper. Bella had introduced them, and Jasper, ever the gentlemen, had picked up her bag without comment, along with Bella's, and opened the door for them all. He'd set the bags inside, and stepped out with a polite, "Ma'am," nodding at each of them in turn.

Grace had given an equally courteous, "thank you, sir," telling Bella later that he seemed like a real gentleman.

"What makes you think that?" Bella had asked, curious what Grace had noticed.

She'd thought about it for a moment, and then said, "he seems old-fashioned, somehow, even for someone so young."

Bella had smiled, not sharing just how accurate her assessment was.

"No," she said again, "Ben's actually apologized." She shrugged. It wasn't important to her.

Jacob gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Because I have no problem following through on my promise if he doesn't."

Bella felt a squirm of unease over this. He owed her nothing, not after what she'd done.

The anger had vanished, and she was staring down the greater part of a harder conversation. The urge to chicken out and run was becoming stronger.

"So," Jacob said, "you were saying. About when you used to hear Edward's voice."

She wasn't aware she still flinched when she heard the name.

Jacob had moved his hands under the table, so she wouldn't see their hard grip on his legs.

"Yes, I was hearing voices in my head."

"More than just his?"

"No," she said.

"Alright," he said, "keep going."

"I would hear it when we you and I would do stuff together, Jacob."

He was undeterred by this. "Is that the only reason you would spend time with me?"

She shook her head.

"So?"

"After we'd been together for a while, I stopped hearing it."

He leaned forward, hopeful. "And you didn't think that was a good sign?"

"I did," she said. "But then, it came back in the fall, here."

He nodded, seeing how that could be disturbing.

There was a lump in her throat, working up to the next part. "I thought I was losing my mind, again," she said. "But, even then, I still wanted to hear him." She looked up at him, surprised that his face was still so calm. She doubted it would be for this next part. "So," she swallowed again, "I took a knife, and I tried to cut my wrists, because I figured if anything, that would definitely bring it back." She stared at the table top, waiting for the realization to strike, for him to mumble something, and then leave.

"And what happened?" Jacob asked, his voice still calm.

"I heard him, felt his hands even. It was very real."

"Then what happened?"

"I was terrified. I dropped the knife, and ran. Then I drove to your house, and asked you to make love to me."

He said nothing, but kept his eyes squarely on hers.

"When I found the knife on my pillow the next night, I knew I was really losing it." She looked at him. "It was a shock to hear, when you told me they were back, but at least I knew I wasn't going crazy."

Jacob spoke slowly, and carefully, "I still want to be with you, Bella. Nothing's changed that."

"I know," she said, "but I don't think you understood what terrified me. It wasn't that I'd heard him, or felt his hands, it was that I still wanted to be with him. Even after everything. Even after...being with you." Her voice shook at the end. "Yes, I love you, and that's why I'm ending it now, because you deserve someone whose heart isn't divided."

He reached over, and took her hand, squeezing it. "I walked into this with open eyes, Bella. I knew how you felt about him."

"I don't think you expected those feelings to stay the same. Not after a year."

She didn't add, what she was thinking most, which was that there was something more profoundly wrong with her. More so than hearing his voice in her head. More than being willing to risk a knife to her wrist to hear it. He'd left. Told her he didn't want her. Didn't love her. And still, the feeling rose, unbidden, and consuming, when she saw him.

"I still think we can be happy, Bella, if you'll give it time," Jacob said, his hope earnest in his voice, hand still tightly holding hers.

She shook her head, pulling her hand away. "Until when, Jacob? How long? What if it never changes? It isn't a risk I want to take with you. It isn't fair, and it would be stupid to risk it."

Bella stood up, her not so subtle signal that she was done with the conversation.

He joined her, standing to his full height. "I'm not giving up, Bella." He took her hand, and laid it over his heart. "Still yours, even if you think someone else should have it."

And then, because he didn't know when, or if, he'd ever be able to again, he pulled her to him in a hug. When he felt her trying to disentangle herself, he released his arms, and with a "Bye Bells," he walked away.


	16. Answers, finally

**Answers, finally**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Outside, a safe distance, and downwind of Bella's residence, Edward watched Jacob leave, still astonished by what he'd learned.

He'd promised himself, when he returned in March, that it was just to check on her. Just to make sure she really had moved on. It was so clear that she hadn't, that he'd been astounded by Alice's misread of what _was_ going on.

"She's seeing someone, Edward. You don't see that as moving on?" Alice had asked him, tartly, when he pressed her.

The horror of discovering Bella was with a werewolf, and that Victoria had returned, evading all their attempts to find her, were compounded in each other.

When it became clear that the wolves had no plans to watch her in Seattle, they'd made their own, Rose shaking her head at all of them.

"What did you expect?" She'd asked. "Happily ever afters? You broke her heart and abandoned her, while leaving her prey to a vengeful mate. How stupid can you get?"

Esme had chided her, but only out of maternal protectiveness. All of them agreed, in their most unguarded thoughts, that their leaving had been a mistake.

They'd pressed him to return, to settle again, and make her safe. Tell her the truth.

He'd refused. He'd promised her not to do just that. Knew how torturous it would be.

How torturous it was.

Watching from a distance, he'd missed it, but the times now when he'd had to intervene, had seen the feeling in her eyes, he knew what he'd done.

When she had burnt herself, he'd promised himself he would just make sure she got to the hospital, and then leave.

Then he'd told himself it would just be until she saw a doctor. But once he heard, in Carlisle's thoughts, what the nurse suspected, he couldn't break himself away.

It had taken Jasper talking him down from his rage, all his gifts thrown at him, that kept him from finding Jacob Black that night.

It was Alice's comment that stung him into submission. "You want to kill the man that Bella loves? Because you think he's hurting her—you're not sure yet. And you think that will help her move on?"

Tonight he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself, and wondered what Jacob Black might want to do with him.

Rightly so.

He felt the anguish of his guilt again, at leaving her, but this time it was freshened, and deepened by the knowledge that she still loved him.

That he had left her, and tortured her, for nothing.

She wasn't even safe.

He looked at the inky web he'd spready around her life, its darkness catching every piece, and wondered if he could ever right it.


	17. Playing Games

**Playing games**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Bella had toyed seriously with ditching her homework, especially after the conversation she'd had with Jacob the night before. Phoning Alice, she was disappointed to have it go to voicemail. She'd hoped for a movie, or shopping, or anything, really, in the way of distraction.

Unusually, Grace was home Saturday night, but so deeply immersed in her scriptures and prayer, that Bella felt like she was interrupting something intimate, just being in the room. She looked at her paper notes, which she'd struggled with earlier in the day, and decided a change in venue would help. The third, and first floor lounges were full with loud, and noisy conversations. The second floor one was utterly deserted. Seating herself on the couch furthest from the door, she settled in with her books and notes, and found herself making some decent progress. She swore the heat in her room was cooking her brain and resolved to leave more often for studying.

She had the structure and points of her paper down when Ben came in, his arms full of a stack of games, a few of his friends trailing. He smiled in her direction, but seeing the books and papers, didn't say anything else. She smiled back, but kept her focus on her work.

An hour or so later, she was surprised to hear his voice. "Hey," Ben said, "Earth to Bella?" he asked.

"Sorry, what?" she said, looking up.

"I've been ditched by party goers, wanna join me?" He asked, gesturing to the games on the table.

Her paper almost done, Bella considered the options of finishing it, or returning to the boiling convent in her room.

Right, games it was.

"Oh," she said, a glimmer of excitement in her voice, "you've got chess." She grinned. Ben had done his part to apologise, but it would feel good to beat him roundly at a game, and she was pretty sure, given what she'd learned last year, that she could.

They set up the board, and were a good six moves in, when Ben raised his eyebrows. "Geez, you're good," standing and walking to the vending machine. "Drink?" he asked.

Bella nodded, "Sure, cola, please," she said, keeping her eyes on the board. She was several moves ahead in her mind, unpacking a few preferred strategies.

She heard the crack of the lid as he twisted it off, walking over, and handed it to her. "Cheers," he said, and they each took a long swig.

Several moves later, Bella didn't look up when she heard her name called. No, not with that voice. It was only when Ben said, "Bella, your friend?" that she did.

Ben's back was to him, his own eyes studying the chess board.

Edward looked at her, his pose rigid.

She looked around the room, expecting some mortal danger.

Nope, just Ben and chess.

Edward pretended to clear his throat. "Alice is expecting you," he lied, "said I might find you here."

Ben was looking at Bella, as if he expected to be introduced. When Bella said nothing, he said "I'm Ben," with a smile.

Edward's terse "I'm Alice's brother," invited no further conversation. His added, "I'm sure you don't want to keep her waiting," to Bella, was softer.

She finally spoke, "Alice got the night wrong," and looked at him, her message clear. "I'll be seeing her tomorrow."

Edward made his warning precise, his stiff stance totally at odds with his light tone, "She'll be seeing Victoria then, so she was hoping you could come tonight. If we're going to make our reservation, we need to go. Now."

Bella was trying not to show how unsettled that one name had made her. "Sorry," she said to Ben, "I'll have to beat you another time," and smiled in thanks for the game.

"Sure," he said, but he was watching Edward through narrowed eyes as he picked up Bella's books and papers, and held an arm out behind her, so very carefully not touching her, but directing—herding her towards the door. It was a familiar, and protective gesture.

She felt light headed standing, and had to pause before walking towards the door. In the hall, she gritted out, "why are you here, really?" in a low growl.

He was walking close to her. Close enough that she could feel the coolness of his body sucking at her own body heat. The lightheadedness had come back, and she put a hand out to the wall, sliding it along as she walked, keeping herself steady. She didn't want to stop, didn't want him to touch her. She knew he wouldn't inadvertently, but she didn't want to risk it.

"He drugged you, Bella," he whispered.

She stopped, abruptly turning to face him. "What?"

"With GHB," he said, not adding, _or so he thinks_. He'd gotten it from a friend. God knew what was actually in it. Watching her stumble along, he wouldn't be surprised if it was.

"Why?" she asked, still holding on to the wall, her pupils dilating, her vision blurring.

He didn't want to tell her what he'd been planning, not here anyway, and not while he was watching her succumb to it.

It was getting hard to stand now, and she decided sitting was better. The light around her was growing dimmer, despite her concerted effort to stay awake, and she felt cold hands lifting her as the last of her consciousness deserted her.

When she woke, it was to see the clean lining of a dustbin filling with vomit. Hers, she realized.

The cold hands were still there, this time holding her up in a bed, holding her hair out of her face.

Looking down at the feet in front of her, she could see they weren't Alice's, and she strongly suspected that they weren't Jasper's either.

"Hands off," she said, not wanting to see his face, alarmed by the reaction of her body to the coolness she felt on her shoulders.

The hands disappeared, but the feet remained planted in front of her.

Looking around, she was further unsettled that she didn't recognize where she was. The low and diffuse light of a cloudy morning made it hard to tell what time it was.

"You're at our house. In Seattle," Edward said, watching her look around. He was sitting, across from her, in a chair. Glancing at the bin in front of her, he said, "I'm going to get rid of this, unless you think you need it more?"

She shook her head, trying to remember what had happened the night before. She couldn't. How the hell had she wound up here?

He disappeared, and returned, the sudden movement startling her. She'd grown unaccustomed to it.

"Sorry," he said softly, seeing her reaction.

"What happened?" she asked, breathing slowly, her stomach still uncertain.

"Ben put GHB in your drink," he said.

Jacob's promise wandered across her mind, as her anger flared, but she stilled the thought. _No_ , she told herself. _I'll handle it myself._

"And why am I here?" she continued, the anger shifting, and morphing.

"It wasn't safe to leave you, and I didn't think your roommate would appreciate me staying."

"No," Bella said, "I suppose not." She felt groggy still, and was trying to keep a handle on her emotions. Different ones were scrambling to make their way to the top of the heap, a constant heaving mass. "Did you hear...why?" she asked, wishing he would back away.

Edward looked at her, and then down, the distaste in his voice clear. "He wanted to finish what he started in September."

"Oh," she said, breathing in a sharp breath. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Clearly, she had a lot to learn about judging someone's character. Forcing herself to look at him, and feeling her body's reaction to the sight of him, she determined that first, she needed to leave.

Standing up, she felt fine. Looking down at herself, she saw that she'd been ill before, and had not aimed so well as this morning.

"The bathroom's that way," he pointed, seeing her look at herself.

"I'm going home," she said, trying to navigate her way to an exit.

"I'll drive you," he said, going to show her the way.

"No," she said, "I'll call a cab," patting her pockets, looking for her phone. Cursing silently, she realized she'd left everything in her room.

"They won't come this far," he said, apologetically. "If you don't want me to take you, you should be clear to drive in a few hours."

She said several bad words in her head, closing her eyes. She could feel her hands shaking, from rage, embarrassment, and more horrifically, from the desire to clutch him tightly, and not let go.

It made her want to vomit, all over again.

He said nothing, watching her, wanting to ease her distress, but not sure how. He stood, slowly, and walked out of the room, returning with a bundle of something, and a tray. "I'll be downstairs," he said quietly, and then left, closing the door softly.

She pretended he wouldn't hear the tears, and sat down, head in her hands.

She felt like she'd been stretched, like an old elastic, slowly torn apart, just waiting for herself to snap.

"Well," she muttered to herself, "I suppose it won't hurt to be clean when I do." Her shower was short, but cleared away some of the fuzziness in her head.

She looked at the clothes on the bed. Alice's choices no doubt, but on closer inspection, saw they were her own—old ones she'd left at the Cullen's ages ago, forgotten about.

 _He kept my clothes?_ _Why?...Perhaps to lure Victoria with?...That must be it_ , she thought. Her heart clenched, the little sliver of hope, that he'd missed her, or wanted her, broken off sharply.

No, she told herself, he'd been utterly clear there, that day in the woods. _No room for hope there_.

Showered and dressed, she looked at the tray, which held a small glass of juice, and lifting the lid over the plate, she couldn't help but laugh—poptarts.

The laugh morphed into a lump of sadness in her chest. That he had known her so well, and left her, so easily.

 _He doesn't love you, and he never did_ , she told herself. _He's only here because he feels responsible for Victoria. Nothing else._

She left the food on the tray, wrapping her clothes up in a bundle, and walked downstairs. He was waiting at the window, and looked up at her, his expression carefully neutral.

"Can I get you something else to eat?" he asked.

"No," she said, angry that he'd listened. Heck, angry that he'd brought her here. "I'm going." Spying the entrance, she slipped her shoes on.

"Bella," he said, watching her.

"What?" she asked, her voice hard.

He was holding out a coat to her. She recognized it as the one he'd lent her in Port Angeles.

Her mind pulled together the present, and the past, those two very different states of mind, and refused to reconcile them. She had been so hopeful then, so inquisitive, and innocent, of what this world could do to her. And now, she looked at him, his bodily perfection, so perfectly belying his betrayal, and was reduced to the visceral, juvenile rage to hurt him as he had hurt her. His hands caught hers easily, their cold grip unbreakable, even with her choked rage.

"Please," he said, "use something that won't hurt you when it hits me, if you're going to do that," his voice calm, eyes concerned.

It enraged her even more. She was beyond words, and he held her, until he felt her muscles slacken.

"Why won't you just stay out of my life? You LEFT! You PROMISED I wouldn't see you!"

"Because Ben would have raped you last night, if I hadn't." This he said less calmly, his own voice rising. "Just like he would have in September, if I hadn't stopped him then." He let go of her hands, turning away. "And if we're talking about promises, what about yours? Hmm? Not to do anything reckless? Like jumping off of cliffs, or spending time with werewolves, or trying to cut your wrists open?! What were you thinking?!"

"YOU LEFT ME!" she screamed at him. "You had NO right to ask anything of me!" She spluttered, "and even less now!"

"I LEFT YOU TO KEEP YOU SAFE!" he yelled, all control gone, moving towards her.

She stepped back instinctively, closing her eyes when she could feel her body temperature drop in proximity to his. "And look how well that's worked," she whispered. She opened her eyes, forcing herself to look at him.

It hurt, to be so close to him, to feel the rejection again.

"I need to leave," she said, and bolted for the door, the cold air sharp in lungs. She walked as quickly as she could, not trusting herself to run. She was too upset, too worried she'd fall, and really be dependent on his help.

Ten minutes later, she was beginning to feel the bite of the cold, but made herself keep going. Up ahead, hanging on a tree, she could see something, and as she got closer, realized what it was: his jacket.

It's better than finding him, she told herself, slipping it on, stuffing her hands in the pockets. She felt gloves, and heard the crinkle of something else. Pulling everything out, she found a juice box, and a granola bar.

She really wanted to throw them into the woods, but figured it would only increase the likelihood of his return.

An hour later, the cold, and a lack of sleep had slowed her. She hadn't eaten or drunk anything yet. The thought of passing out, and waking up near him again made her stop, and rip open the granola bar, biting into it angrily.

She walked on, rounding a sharp corner in the road, leading to a fork just ahead. Parked neatly to the side was a familiar silver Volvo. When she reached it, there was a note in tidy script tucked under the wiper blade: "Bella, The keys are in the ignition. I'm sorry, in so many more ways than you know—for everything. - Edward"

Sitting in the car, and turning it on, the familiar scent pulled a sharp sob from her. She let the engine warm up, or so she told herself, feeling the chill leave her, and her breathing slow itself.

A map had been left on the passenger seat, her route traced neatly in precise black ink. By the dot that marked the house, was a note: you're always welcome.

She wondered if there was anything he could do now, that wouldn't anger her. She doubted it. Committing her way home to memory, she shifted the car into gear, and drove back.


	18. Gifts of the Magi

**Gifts of the Magi**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Here's a last one for you," Charlie said. His voice sounded strange to Bella, who accepted the heavy package with a furrowed brow. She wasn't expecting anything else, having already opened gifts from the usual suspects.

There was a small card on the outside, with her name on it in large, block letters. Opening it, the card read: "Comes with a free oil change (which your car is due for) - and no, this is not some weird sexual metaphor. So, get your car and your butt down to the rez so you can see your FRIEND. No awkwardness required. Jake"

Opening the box, she found an oil filter, and several containers of oil. She laughed, despite her misgivings. She couldn't deny missing him. It had felt lonely, and she found herself constantly thinking of how she would tell him something that had happened during the day, only to remind herself that she wouldn't.

Maybe she shouldn't go, she thought. It was soon. It had only been a month. Her burns were healed, but the flesh was still raw and angry, and they served as her marker in time, dating that freshest, and most invisible wound she nursed—that he nursed, too. She'd left him. She knew exactly how that felt.

"Watcha got there?" Charlie asked, sitting beside Sue.

"Oh," she said, smiling a little, "it's from Jacob. He's offered to change the oil in my car." Her smile didn't rise to her cheekbones though, and Charlie looked away, making another comment to Seth instead.

"I'll just go put this in the car," she said softly, and stepped outside, taking in a good deep breath and letting it out.

He hadn't called, and while she missed him, was grateful too that he respected the space she'd asked for. Edward hadn't appeared either, though Alice was now a regular, and happy feature in her life. She knew he would be able to see what Alice saw and experienced, but at least she wasn't forced to see him. His peripheral existence hurt less, and was easier to deny.

"Come on Bella," Charlie called from inside, "come on in and eat, Sue's got crepes ready."

"Sure," she said, putting the box in the back of her car, but not wanting company just quite yet. She stood at the tailgate for as long as she thought she could, and then turned to go back inside. A small red envelope, untouched by the day's light snow, made her stop. Someone had clearly just left it there, and she shivered, knowing who it was likely from.

Out of habit, Bella looked around to see if she could find the deliverer of the note, knowing it was likely pointless. The slanted cursive writing was familiar, and she decided to open it outside, in case she needed time to compose herself.

It read, simply: "Merry Christmas, can't wait to kill you. Victoria."

Charlie's exasperated voice told her she'd stood far longer than she intended, and she jumped when he called again.

"Jeez Bella, you planning to freeze yourself to the spot? Come on!"

"Yeah," she said, slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans, "coming."

Inside, Seth and Leah had made a sizeable impact on the stack of crepes, and Bella joined them, doing her best to look embarrassed at taking so long.

The social obligations of the morning done, Bella begged tiredness, and went to her room to lay down. She pulled out her phone and texted Alice, who replied immediately: Save me the note. Be there in a sec.

She meant it literally, and Bella jumped when she arrived silently, holding out her hand for the note. Just as silently, she disappeared, and reappeared again.

"Nope, none of us know this scent. It wasn't her, but we'll keep an eye out," she said. "Don't worry, no one's getting by us."

 _Us_ , Bella thought, wondering who that entailed. She decided it was better not to ask.

"But they did," Bella said, looking at her. "Or this wouldn't be here."

"Maybe the smell drove them away," Alice said, pinching her nose. "God, how do you stand that?" she asked, waving her hand in front of her.

Snorting, Bella picked up her phone, and said, "swim in it, Alice. I'm going to see Jacob."

Alice's mouth twisted, but she said nothing, nodding, and then was gone.

"Dad," Bella called, coming down the stairs. "I'm gonna go see Jacob, 'K?"

He was still, watching her, carefully weighing his words. "OK. You'll be back for dinner, then?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, but her voice held no commitment.

Charlie stepped to the window and frowned. "You sure? There's a lot of snow. The roads won't be well cleared." He didn't want to interfere, but he wasn't sure this was the best plan. Big holiday, big feelings, and big weather—not a good mix.

"I've got snow tires," she said, hoping to reassure him, "i'll be fine."

Charlie sighed. "You know, they're not magic, hey? Be careful?"

She nodded, and with a quick "love you," grabbed her coat, sprinting out the door. If she was going to draw vengeful vampires anywhere, she couldn't find a better place than a pack of werewolves. Charlie would be safe with Alice, Seth, and Leah.

Charlie was right. The roads were poorly cleared, and she fishtailed twice before she hit the highway, keeping her speed down, letting the more adventurous drivers pass her.

Jacob was not expecting her, and it was only by chance that he was home.

"I am the luckiest dude alive," he said, when she got out of the car. "Merry Christmas," and wrapped her in a hug. "Come to cash in your present already? Wow, way to make a man work on Christmas," he said, and was eyeing her car, when she stopped him.

"No," she said softly, "that's not why I'm here," and she pulled out the note that had been left.

"You OK?" he said, looking at it.

Bella nodded, "I'm fine, I just thought you should know."

"Can I keep it? Show everyone?" he asked.

She nodded again, laughing darkly, "It isn't the Christmas gift I'll treasure, so yeah, keep it."

He looked at her, as if he was weighing his next question. "So, that the only thing that brings you down my way? In the middle of a snowstorm?" He eyed the road visible from the drive, now thick with a layer of white.

She smiled, this time more lightly. "Thank you," she said, "for the Christmas gift. You don't have to, though. All that awkwardness, and everything," she said dramatically, rolling her eyes for effect.

He chuckled. "There's my girl. Come on, it'll take me a few minutes. I just want to make sure everything else is good too."

He was, as promised, quick, and pleased that her car was otherwise in good shape. "So," he said, wiping his hands off on a towel. "How're things at school?"

She shrugged. "Fine, I guess. Schoolish."

He grinned. "You're a way better student than I am these days," and his smile faded a bit there. "That guy—Ben—he still behaving?"

Here her own face fell briefly, against her wishes.

He caught it immediately. "What'd he do?" he said, dropping the rag, and walking over to her. "Bella? Seriously. That guy's no good, and if it's not you, he's gonna to hurt someone else. What'd he do?"

He had put his hand on her arm, just above her elbow, where she'd wrapped her arms around herself, unaware of the instinctual hug.

"Why Jake?" she asked, "What're you going to do if he did? Beat him up? Get yourself in trouble. Scare the crap out of him?" She shook her head. "No," she said, "there's no point."

"What. Did. He. Do?" Jacob gritted out.

"Let go," she hissed through her breath, resenting his pushiness.

He did, immediately, whispering "Sorry," and walking away, pacing the length of the workspace. She waited, uncertain, watching him. When he spoke again, it was carefully. "You know how i feel, Bella," looking at her. "I've seen you hurt enough, and I've never been able to offer any of those people payment for the hurt they gave you."

She blinked, astounded. "So," she said, understanding, "you want to go beat up Ben, because you can't beat up the Cullens."

"Pretty much, yeah. It would be...the best Christmas present, ever," he said darkly, borrowing her words.

"Well," she started, "after he convinced me to play chess with him, he spiked my drink with GHB. He didn't get to do anything with me, because Edward arrived, and when I passed out, he took me to his place."

It felt like a weight had been lifted, being able to put this into words, to be shared with another person.

Jacob had stopped moving, his body fixed in a preternatural stillness. He swallowed, "And? What happened then?"

It was almost comical in the retelling, "I woke up, threw up, and then told him to stay out of my life, and left." She shrugged her shoulders, like it was nothing.

It was definitely not nothing.

She'd felt like she'd barely got out with her heart intact.

Jacob exhaled, Ben forgotten, his relief clear. He closed the gap between them and wrapped her in a hug. "The shittiest stuff happens to you Bella. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

She let herself hug him back, head against the familiar curve of his chest. She could feel her tears dampening his shirt. "Thank you Jake, for being my friend."

He squeezed harder at this, not letting go when he knew he should.

"I'll always be your friend Bella, and I'll always be willing to be more too," he said, softening the embrace, giving her space to move if she wanted.

She didn't, letting herself feel safe there, stuffing the ever present guilt into the small space she kept for her many unpleasant worries.

It was Jacob who pulled away, peering out the window at the roads. "If you're going to go, you should. You've got snow tires, but I wouldn't push it. I mean, you can always stay here, we've got room, but I'm guessing Charlie wants you back for dinner, and stuff," he finished, awkwardly.

His fingers brushed against hers, their proximity unstretched.

She nodded, getting ready to go, but he blurted out a hoarse "No, don't," and pulled her back, this time, his lips finding hers. His hands gripped her sides with a ferocious tenacity, and Bella had to pull away, the tears surprising her.

"No Jake," she said. "Please, don't," shaking her head, trying to move around him.

"Be honest," he said, moving with her, "You want to—I know you do, if you're really honest with yourself," he whispered, locking his eyes on hers.

She didn't trust herself to speak, but nodded.

He responded by kissing her again, and his touch was so evocative, she felt like her heart was being pulled out of her through her lungs.

"Please," he said, between his kisses, "I have no expectations, Bella. I just want this, and you do too. Just this—I won't ask more unless you want it."

Her body had spoken for her mind, so thoroughly conflicted at this point, but she knew she had to give it words, to know she wasn't doing worse in letting this happen. "Just this," she said, feeling his lips at her throat, "and just this once Jake," she whispered.

He answered by picking her up, and carrying her back to the house, hip checking the door open. "Just this once," he repeated, laying her on the bed, pulling off his shirt.

Their clothes were stripped, piece by piece, reverent hands absorbing each parcel of flesh revealed. His heat was a soft sun in the coolness of the house, and when she felt him inside her, it was an unexpected summer blossoming, distending the wintriness she'd harboured.

It was his tears that undid her, unlocking her own.

"No," she said, feeling them, and pulling his lips to hers, trying to stop his grief with her hands, touching his face and his hair.

He locked his arms around her, his size twice encompassing her slight frame, trying to bury himself thoroughly in her. It was only when he felt her gasp at the pressure that he relented, stilling his desire to grip her so tightly that she couldn't leave.

When their movement came to its shuddering end, Bella knew, and offered, with precision, the curve of her neck to his teeth. She kept in her cry, as this time, she felt the skin parted, and his lips salted with her blood. There was no apology from Jacob, and his lips returned to hers, the taste of her own flesh strangely shared between them.

She could feel that he wasn't ready to be done, and fished for the second condom as he removed the first.

Their second joining was a desperate clutch against its ending, and in the midst of it, Jacob stood, picking her up, her back against the wall, their rhythm set by his hands at her hips. Her fingernails made neat purchase in his back. His urge to bite was spent, and finally, so were they.

They lingered, neither wanting to break the spell of their joint suspension from reality, and he let his hands trace and memorize each pool of flesh with his gentlest touch, holding the harder curves to him as he kissed her on the bed. They were each, mutually marked by the other, the sting of it fresh on their skins.

Both their faces were slick with tears, when Bella broke it off.

"I should go," she said. "Get home. They're expecting me."

Jacob tried, without success, to convince her to stay, and she could see him in the rear view mirror, watching anxiously as she drove off, slowly, and carefully. The roads were bad, but mostly deserted, and her frequent fishtails left her shaky.

It was Alice's figure that stood at a distance in the road, and Bella panicked momentarily, wondering if she'd be able to stop. Alice had clearly measured her spacing with precision, and taking her foot off the gas, Bella rolled to a step several feet from her.

"My turn to drive!" Alice said, opening the driver's side door. "Scoot over."

Normally, Bella would have resented this, but after the harrowing twenty minutes she'd had already, was glad of Alice's superior skills.

"Just don't crash my car, Alice," she said with a nervous grin.

Alice's eye roll was eloquent. Her sniff, less so. "Jeez, Bella, you don't just smell like a dog, you smell like you are a dog. What were you doing?"

Bella's blush was her only answer, and they drove on in silence, Bella still holding close the ghost of Jacob's touch.


	19. Injuries & Explanations

**Injuries & explanations**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Jacob had worriedly cleaned the cut he'd made with his teeth, anxious and guilty beyond all belief that he'd done it, not understanding why the urge was gone the second time.

Bella had seen it, and said, "I offered, Jacob. It's OK."

Jacob wanted to yell at her, ask her why the hell she'd let him, but instead, he dabbed it with an iodine wash, and gently rubbed on antibiotic ointment. He was nervous, seeing the discolorations beginning under her skin, wondering if she was hurting elsewhere, and if she would tell him.

"I'm fine," she'd said, watching him fret, and more softly, "I don't regret this," fingering her shoulder, and then his hand. Her pregnant silence told him she hoped he felt the same.

"Neither do I," he'd said, just as softly. "I...I hurt you, though, and I didn't want to." He had shaken his head, as if trying to loosen something. A nagging worry that clung.

Seth and Leah had looked at her sharply when she'd walked in, their noses turned by the conflicting smells on her. They'd excused themselves for a walk shortly after, eyeing her keenly as they walked out the door.

A few days after Christmas though, Bella knew there was an infection brewing in the bite, that was well beyond the reach of anything she could find over the counter, and had, when Charlie had returned to work, driven to the walk in clinic at the hospital.

She'd stiffened, seeing the same nurse from her last emergency room visit walk by, and cursed her luck when she was the one who did the initial intake.

This time, she'd said softly, "No one should be biting you honey. I'm going to go get one of our social workers." Bella had opened her mouth to say no, but she wouldn't hear it. She'd suffered their prodding questions, refusing to answer most of them on principle, repeatedly asking to see the doctor, and get the wound taken care of.

The nurse and social worker had exchanged final, meaningful glances, and stopped pushing for information. Neither believed that it was consensual.

The doctor, thank God, stuck to the business end of things, and asked her about school, and how she liked it. It was easy to talk about her overheated dormroom, and the interesting classes she was taking, as he looked at her shoulder, and cleaned it again, sending her off with a prescription, and a recommendation that she avoid human bites in general.

She wondered if that included werewolf ones, too.

Charlie had not bothered with niceties when the second notification landed on his desk.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't want to talk about it?" he said, his face purple with rage. "Someone's hurting you, and you want to protect them?"

She had, with her face almost the same hue, said tersely, "just because someone thinks you're being abused, doesn't mean you are."

He'd continued to press the point into her silence, until she'd finally said, "my consensual sex life is my own business. Biting included. Do you really want me to inquire into yours?"

He stopped asking then, turning even more purple, but the lines of worry were deeply etched when he pulled her into a hug, before she left.

"I love you," he'd said, holding her close. "And you're worth loving….not being...hurt. Don't forget that."

She found her vision blurry with tears, after that, on the ride home, and pulled over several times, the journey a long one, physically, and emotionally.


	20. Hot Chocolate

**Hot Chocolate**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The second term had been an easier start, in some ways than the first, despite the now clearly present fear of Victoria lurking in the back of her mind.

She had an evening class, which was a new experience. It had the benefit of featuring people from a far greater range of ages and experiences, than her daytime courses. The professor was seasoned, and operated with the confidence his tenure provided, tackling provocative topics, and challenging texts with enthusiasm. It was, by leaps and bounds, her favourite course so far. So, when she realized she'd forgotten her textbook, she was flustered, and ran back into her dorm room in a hurry.

"Oh, hey Bella, look what Ben dropped off!" Grace exclaimed, holding up a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate. "Wasn't that nice?"

Bella's stomach dropped.

 _He wouldn't, not with Grace, would he?_

 _Yes_ , her mind told her, _he would._

"Grace," she said, trying to make her stomach put itself back in place, "have you drunk any of that?"

"No, why? Would you like some too?" she asked, ever considerate. "I'll just get another cup."

"No, no," Bella said, taking the cup and setting it down on her desk. "It's just," and she sighed, hating to be the one to explain this to Grace. "Ben is not the kind of person you think he is."

Grace frowned slightly, and waited.

"You remember that night, last December, when I didn't come back to the room?"

"Of course I do," she said. She'd been frantic, not sure who to call, angry with worry by the time Bella had arrived back.

"You know my friend," and here Bella struggled over the syllables, "Edward?"

"Oh yes, Alice's brother," she said. She loved Alice, mostly because she was attached to Jasper, who walked on water in her eyes.

"Yes," Bella said, "He...saw Ben spike my drink. Put something in it, so that I would pass out, and not remember."

Grace, bless her, Bella thought, still looked confused, asking, "Why ever would he do that?"

She hesitated before she explained, watching Grace's eyes grow wide.

Grace looked at the cup of hot chocolate again, horrified.

"So don't drink it," Bella said, turning to leave.

"Where are you going, Bella?" Grace asked, seeing her books on the bed.

"I'm going to go talk to Ben, and then he's never going to bother us again. OK?" Pausing, she added, "After that, maybe we can go somewhere and get a hot chocolate together?"

Grace was pale, still processing that people she liked could do such things, but she nodded.

Bella stormed downstairs to room 201, pounding loudly on the door with the heel of her fist.

"Oh, hey Bella," Ben said, opening it, smiling. "Want some hot chocolate?"

She pushed her way into the room, and closed the door.

"Fuck you, Ben," sticking her finger in the middle of his chest, "I didn't report what you did, but you so much as breathe on another girl the wrong way, and you are done. You stay away from me. You stay away from Grace. You got it?"

He laughed. Curled his hands around his middle and laughed until she could see the tears on his face.

"And you're going to do what? Say I did what? Do you have any proof, Bella?" He was wiping the tears from his eyes.

She knew she was beyond anger when her fists began to shake.

He was right.

She had nothing.

Except fists. She had those.

So she used them.

The first one landed hard on his diaphragm, leaving him satisfactorily winded with a loud umph, but the second caught the hard edge of his jaw, and Bella could feel that the crack she heard was in her own hand, and not him.

She turned, hissing in angry breaths, the rage suppressing the hot pain she could feel building in her arm, and went back upstairs to see Grace.

"Oh," she said, looking at Bella's hand. "Knuckles aren't meant to sit like that—no, no, don't worry, I'm not going to touch, just look," and she did. "Yeah, Bella, I think you need to go to the hospital. Sorry," she added, and with a whisper, "but I'm glad you hit him."

Bella laughed at this, and then regretted it, the movement making the pain in her hand worse.

Slipping her jacket back on very carefully, Bella was surprised to see Grace put hers on. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Walking you to the hospital, of course," she said.

Bella didn't argue, but said a quiet, "thanks," and they walked downstairs together, avoiding the path that took them by Ben's room.

Parked just outside their dorm was a silver Volvo. Walking towards it, at the perfect speed and angle for Grace to see him, was Edward.

"Edward!" she called, and Bella froze.

If her heart ached when she thought of Jacob, it stopped when she saw Edward.

"Bella's hurt her hand. She can't drive. Can you give us a lift to the hospital?"

Bella was trying to take careful breaths in and out, and Grace looked at her nervously, slipping her arm through Bella's good one. "Are you feeling lightheaded?"

She nodded, still processing her body's reaction to Edward.

Alice and Jasper had casually strolled into view, and Edward said, "We were actually just about to go get a bite to eat," he said, looking at Alice with a suitably apologetic expression. "Would you mind?" he asked, gesturing towards the girls.

"Not at all," Jasper said, smiling at Alice, who smiled back. "Grace, why don't you come with us, and Edward can take Bella?"

Bella had never had bad feelings towards Jasper, but she had them now, in spades. She felt an unnatural calm sweep up over her, and cursed him, the calm cloying against her anger at this subterfuge.

She looked at Alice, who nodded minutely towards the car, her eyes full of meaning.

This was no bombardment then, there was a reason. She was in danger.

Nodding, she moved to the car, trying to keep herself calm, as Jasper left. It was harder when she felt Edward's hand, helping her into the front seat.

"So," he asked, "do you want to go to the hospital?"

She looked at him, still trying to manage her voice, "Where else would we go?"

"We can go there," he said shrugging, "but I'll warn you, you're on their alert list. For domestic abuse. They'll want you to talk to a social worker—again."

She stiffened. She liked to pretend she had privacy. It was a tenuous bubble she maintained, and Alice was careful to let her think she did. Edward clearly had no predilection towards maintaining her fantasy.

"What are you suggesting, then?" she asked, her voice icy.

He was looking at her hand, cradled in her other palm. "I think I can handle it," he said softly, raising his eyebrows, reaching out his own hand to her. She put the injured one into his, breathing out at the relief the coolness brought.

The tears that sprang up had nothing to do with the throb in her knuckles.

He looked up, alarmed, "it's hurting more?"

"No," she whispered, looking down.

He carefully rested her hand back in her other. "If you can stand me stopping at a pharmacy, I can get what we need to cast it," he said quietly, watching her.

Pulling away, he looked at her, asking her carefully, "you put some serious force into that. Were you...happy? With the result?"

She'd recovered some of her voice by this point. "I didn't really stop to check." She sounded shaky.

"If you feel your work there is unfinished, any of us would be happy to complete it on your behalf." It was said lightly, but she could tell that it was offered in all seriousness.

She didn't reply, not wanting to give permission for violence beyond her own hands. And, looking at them, she knew she would be stuck with her feet the next time she was called beyond the power of words.

When he offered her his hand again, to get out of the car, she was surprised. "Worried I'll break the other one while you're not looking?" she asked.

He smiled, a grim line that barely lifted the corners of his mouth. "I'd appreciate you coming with me," he said. "Besides, you get to choose the colour of your cast," he added, more lightly.

She laughed at this, forgetting herself, forgetting briefly, the last year, and watched his own smile stretch and grow.

It was like seeing the sun after a year of night.

The touch of his hand at her back, recalled herself, and she stepped away.

He gestured that she should go in front of him, and she watched with cautious curiosity as he collected various supplies, pointing to the wall at the back where the colours of the wraps were displayed behind the counter. She shrugged, indicating it didn't matter to her. "Blue, please," he said softly, "and a waterproof liner."

The pharmacist looked at him, clearly too young to have the expertise to use these, and then at Bella's hand, and wondered if he had hurt her. "You OK sweetheart?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yep," she said, uninterested in dispelling his misapprehension, watching Edward pay for the supplies.

When they pulled up to a stately house, just off of campus, Bella looked at him curiously. "Where are we?"

It was his turn to shrug, this time with some embarrassment. "You didn't seem to appreciate the distance of our other home to campus. This seemed like a good investment," he added.

Bella marvelled at the indifference with which the Cullens managed real estate, but, jarring her hand as she moved to get out of the car, was grateful that she didn't have to wait much longer for the bones to be put back where they belonged.

"I need to reset the bones," he said, sitting her down at the kitchen table. "Which is going to hurt. I'd like to give you something for the pain first."

He wasn't surprised when she shook her head, but it disturbed him.

"Why?" he asked. "You refused with Carlisle too. You have something against pain management when it involves supernatural creatures?" It was meant to be light, but she clenched her jaw.

"Why Bella?" he asked more softly, laying her hand over an ice pack.

There was no doubt that it was hard to be with him, but it was easier, certainly than before. Still, to answer, was an act of forced breath and words.

He needed to hear.

Maybe he would fade away again, and only exist in the background, if he understood.

It would certainly be easier.

"When you left," she began, teeth still tight, "it hurt so much I could barely breath. And then, after a time," she paused, thinking, after Jacob, "it was better." She swallowed, and her voice broke, "but when you came back, it was...worse—again." She felt a stab of self-loathing. She was protecting him from the worst of it. Still. "This pain is….easier," she added, nodding towards her hand. "A distraction, even."

Edward's face was strained, the distress etched into every feature.

"How," he started, "can I make it better?"

She put her good hand to her mouth to stop the sob, eventually able to speak. "You don't love me, Edward. There is no way to make it better."

She stood, shaky.

"Where are you going?" he asked, standing too.

"I'll just go to the hospital," she murmured. "I shouldn't have come."

"Why?" he asked.

She shook her head, the laugh and sob coming out mixed, together. "Why? Are you that obtuse?" She was incredulous, and angry.

"Quite possibly. I've done some stupid things. Explain, please." He wasn't blocking her way. She was free to go, and she could read the tension in him, hoping that she would stay.

"I love you, Edward," she admitted, her shame and humiliation florid in her cheeks. "And you don't." She shook her head, trying to stop the tears.

He moved, absolutely blocking her way out.

"Do you think I returned, only out of a sense of obligation?" he asked, his voice fierce.

"Clearly," she said, eyes down.

"No, Bella," he said softly. "I lied, that day in the forest. I thought it would take—hours—to convince you, that I didn't love you, but you believed, so easily." He brought his hand to her cheek. "I never stopped loving you. It was the worst decision I've ever made, to leave you."

Bella was having trouble breathing, and she could almost not understand the hands that caught her, picking her up, and setting her back on the chair at the table.

"I love you, Bella," he whispered. "I never stopped."

She knew she was still crying when she felt the tears on her hands.

They sat, both processing what the other had said.

"You still love me," she said, the sound of it uncertain on her lips.

"Yes," he answered.

"Why," she began, "didn't you tell me? Before?"

He sighed, "I thought you'd moved on, Bella. I knew—knew things weren't good, but I saw the damage I'd done. I knew I had no right to come back to you, when there was a chance you could be happy without me."

Her hand was hurting still, he could see the subtle throb in the inflamed skin. "I still want to talk," he said, "but your hand. May I?"

She nodded.

"Will you take some pain medication, please?" he asked. "And a shot for this? I want to make sure I do this properly, and not hurt you."

Her nod was small, but he was back instantly with the medication, and the syringe, the supplies laid out neatly on the table. She swallowed the pills with a grimace. The injection was harder, despite his precision and speed.

"OK," he said, watching her recover from the sting of the needle, "I'm going to have you take a deep breath in, and then exhale. I'll reduce the injury then, alright?"

She steeled herself, and did as he asked, feeling him deftly move the bones into their original places. She was ashen by the time the breath was done.

"Don't move your hand," he said softly, putting his hand on her good one, "you're doing brilliantly."

He wrapped her hand quickly, and she watched with admiration at his skill. "Did Carlisle teach you this?" she asked, when the pain had begun to recede.

He smiled, and she felt a small part of her melt, seeing his lopsided grin. "No," he said, "I've been to medical school a few times. Mostly so Carlisle can recertify," he shrugged. "I don't get to practise often," he added softly, looking at her.

"You're good at it," she said, looking at the smoothness of the cast.

He was frowning, seeing it. "You're not going to be able to write," he said, "Or drive, not for a few weeks at least."

She shook her head. "I don't need to drive, not much," she said, "and I can get notes from a classmate. Type one handed. Not a big deal."

"Beats up a potential rapist, saves her roommate, and shrugs off injuries," he murmured, smiling. "You've always been brave, Bella," he said, and went to slide his hand into her hair.

She flinched, backing away quickly.

"Sorry," he said.

"I can't," Bella whispered, eyes down, breathing heavy again. "No."

Edward didn't understand, and said as much. "Bella, our feelings are clear. Why—?"

"Why?" she said, her voice rising, and her body also. "You LEFT, Edward! You didn't ask me, talk to me, NOTHING! How could you expect me to trust you with my heart, again?" Her rage was embarrassingly punctuated by her tripping as she moved backwards from the table, Edward catching her. He let her go quickly, but not before he made sure she was steady.

It angered her even more, and she pushed away from him, sniffing in a sharp breath as her hand made contact with him.

"I'm sorry, Bella, more than you can possibly know," he said, shaking his head. He watched her pace, the movement not unlike a caged animal. "How can I earn your trust again?"

"You have no idea," she said, "what your leaving did to me. Did to my friendships." Her movement was now tracing the path between the kitchen and the dining room, circling the space between the tables.

He knew, in part at least, what it had done, and his eyes flickered to her shoulder, the edge of a sturdy scab peeking out from her shirt. Even her smell had changed, the faint whiff of wolf following her since Christmas.

"I'm not the person you left," she said, "even if you're still the same person who left me." She found her jacket, holding it to her, one good arm clutching around her middle. "I'd like to go home now, please." She hoped she didn't have to walk, but was mentally preparing her route, having watched carefully when they drove here.

He thought carefully, before asking, knowing what the likely answer was. "Would you consider staying here tonight?" he asked, trying to add enough information to allow her a choice, but not so much as to frighten her, "Alice saw some possible...problems tonight."

"With what?" she asked, her stomach twisting.

"Several factors," he said, trying to evade a direct answer.

"Earn my trust, you say, and then evade my questions. I can tell you've learned so much." The words were clipped and angry.

He blew out a breath. "I'm sorry, you're right," and looked at her. "How much do you want to know?"

"Everything." There was no hesitation.

"From me, or Alice? She'll be here soon."

Bella made an exasperated noise in her throat. "If I wanted to ask Alice, I would have."

"She's seen flickers of Victoria, and another of our kind near your dorm, with you in it. Nothing certain, but we'd prefer not to take the chance."

"What about Grace?" Bella asked, feeling a pang of anguish for her safety from these unseen dangers. And then, thinking of Ben, more guilt for leaving her to his anger.

"Jasper," he smiled a little, "is happily charming her." He snorted, "he hasn't had met such an appreciative human audience before," he added. "He'll keep her safe, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it," she said, meaning it.

"Would you feel more comfortable if I left, Bella? I can keep you safe at distance," he offered.

"No," she said. "It's fine." But, she was feeling the weight of the day, and the pain in her hand, pressing on her. Exhaustion always seemed to sneak up on her, and today was no exception. "I need to go to bed," she said, suddenly realizing there probably wasn't one.

"Here," he said, "I'll show you your room."

She thought he'd meant a room, in the generic sense, but walking in, realized it was her room, specifically. The partially open closet held clothes, and the bathroom was stocked, clearly, with what Alice thought she needed.

It was unnerving, in the extreme.

"You—" she started.

"Alice," Edward said, with his hands up in surrender, "wanted a place where you could be safe, and comfortable. I thought you might want one away from others, if you were worried about drawing attention to them. Like Grace," he said. "I," he added, in a knowing tone, "have better sense than to go shopping for you," tilting his head towards the closet.

She'd missed his humour.

It was surprising to hear herself laugh.

But she stopped herself just as suddenly.

He watched her, his heart joyful just to be near her, but to hear her laugh. It was magic.

Alice's voice broke between them. "I approve of the cast colour, but I'm not happy about it restricting wardrobe choices."

"Hi Alice," Bella said, breathing out in relief. "Thank you, for making sure Grace is safe, and donating Jasper to the cause," she smiled, seeing her friend.

"No problem," she said, pulling her into a hug. "Shoo Edward, you've upset her," she added, waving him away with her hand.

He grimaced, but left without complaint, and Alice and Bella settled into the safer conversational territory of clothes, and redecorating.


	21. Just Dinner

**Just dinner**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"It's for you to borrow," Edward said, when she hesitated. "We keep ours pretty current. This is an old one we don't have use for." He held it out for her, and when she didn't take it, put it on her desk. "Your password is the same as at home," he added. "Any of us can help you with it—if you need it, that is."

"Thank you," she said uncertainly, looking at the sleek silver body of the small laptop. "That's...thoughtful of you." She knew, without opening it, that it was practically new, and that "old" it might mean used once. She'd struggled through a week of typing work in the lab, and hounding friends for notes, and knew it would be much easier to type her own notes, and papers here.

She glanced at him again. It was strange, still, having him appear in her room. Bodily. Not the ghost that had haunted her.

Grace had made an exception to the no-boys-ever-in-our-room for the Cullens, and Bella smiled to herself at Jasper's charm. They had talked, long past when Grace was normally up, about their respective lives. Bella had heard, at length, about Jasper's "childhood," from her usually timid roommate, who was thrilled to have friends beyond Bella, and the Tanners.

Bella felt a twitch of guilt, knowing what kind of creatures she had introduced her to, wondering if she would be safe.

Her escort, over the last few days, had become overt, Edward, Alice and Jasper forming a tight triangle around her, their body language seemingly relaxed, but the formation sound against any danger, human or otherwise.

"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked, and she froze, mid-step towards her desk.

He was already regretting asking.

 _Too soon_ , he told himself, internally flinching. _Far too soon._

She, however, was considering it. Looking at Grace, whose back was to them at her desk, Bella glanced back at him, and he nodded. She would be safe.

"Sure," she said, her stomach fluttering.

It would be so easy to walk back into his arms. To kiss him. To feel her body surrender to the magic of his.

So easy.

But she remembered, with far too much pain, the way he'd dismissed her choices, forced her hand. Decided for her.

No.

But dinner. Just dinner. Sure.

But to be his, and he to be hers.

No.

Not yet.

And maybe, not ever.

"Somewhere interesting, or new, for you too," she said, not wanting themselves to be the only topic of conversation.

He smiled, just thrilled that she'd said yes to spending time with him. "Somewhere you have in mind?" he asked, picking up her coat, holding it up for her.

She shivered in pleasure, feeling his hand brush hers, sliding it on. "No," she said, "You're good with surprises though, I seem to remember."

They were walking through the hall at this point, and he threaded her good arm through his for the stairs with a murmured "careful", letting go at the foot of them. As they reached the foyer, Bella saw Ben at a distance, walking out the front door. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was sporting a bruise on his jaw, easily disguised by the few days growth of beard over it.

"The offer still stands," Edward said softly, holding the door for her when they reached it. He too looked at Ben through the thin slits of his eyes, curling his lips back over his teeth when the boy glanced at him.

Ben walked faster, putting eager space between them.

It pleased her to see him feel at least some fear. She just wished she could inspire more than laughter, and a faint bruise.

She let herself relax in the car, enjoying the novel experience of being a passenger in city traffic. When they pulled to a stop, it was to an unassuming street.

"La Medusa?" she said, eyebrows up, when they reached the restaurant. She laughed. "Really?"

"Why?" he asked, not getting the joke.

"You used to talk about being a monster, Edward. I just, I thought it was funny that you would pick this place. A creature whose gaze turns people to stone? Kinda ironic, huh?" Looking at the menu, she added, "it's also odd that they've chosen a Greek myth for an Italian restaurant."

His eyebrows were up in surprise at her laughter. "Of all the things for you to laugh about," he said, pulling her chair out for her. He still marvelled that she could make light of what he was—that she didn't run screaming from all of them.

The courtesies he observed were all familiar, but strange, like a language she hadn't used in ages. She was trying to remember if he'd always done this, or if her independence hadn't dulled the edge of his formality. She couldn't—the memories eluded her, being so unexercised over the last year.

"You still don't see me as a monster?" he said, his voice incredulous, "After all you've seen? Been hurt by? James, Laurent, Victoria? Me?"

She looked at him, now seated across from her. "How—how did you know about Laurent?" she asked, not wanting to shiver, to show him just how terrified she'd been.

He wanted to stare at her, watch the low light of the restaurant play in her hair, see the subtle shifts in her skin, but didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he fiddled with a strayly bent flower in the vase, trying to coax it back up with his fingers. "Sam," he said, looking at her. "We had to tell him when we came back."

"And when was that?" she asked, sipping the water the waitress had brought.

He flicked his eyes up at her, trying not to hold her gaze too long, to let her feel at ease. He knew she had the answer to this already. "March," he said. "Is there anything else you want to test me on?" he asked softly. "Make sure I'm being truthful? I wouldn't fault you for it."

"Yes," she said, unhesitant. "Everything. When you decided to leave, what you did while you were gone, what made you come back, and what you know about my life from when you were gone. No omissions."

"That will likely take longer than dinner," he said, and felt a guilty stab of pleasure, that he might justify the theft of her hours at her own request.

"It's Saturday. I can sleep in tomorrow," she said shrugging, but her voice harder, suspecting evasion.

"Will you eat then, if I talk?" he asked, the request made softly. He'd watched her grow thin over the last few weeks, and the protuberance of her bones, her skin tight over them, had alarmed him, more as he had set them the week before. "Please?" he added.

"Sure," she said, skimming the menu again. The waitress had reappeared as soon as he had looked up for her. Bella ordered, then looked at Edward, wondering if he would maintain his charade here. He shook his head, and they were alone to talk.

He began, and as promised, Bella ate when the food arrived. She listened intently, pressing him when she felt he was skimming over key details.

He was glad she had finished her food when he began telling her why he'd come back, and what he knew of her life. She grew pale as he approached the fall, and he stopped, just before Thanksgiving.

He'd paid the bill after nodding towards the desert menu, and she'd shaken her head.

"Where to?" he asked, holding her coat as she looked for it.

"I can put my own coat on, you know," she said with a lightly exasperated smile.

"Sorry," he said, "very old habits," and he hesitated. "Would you prefer I didn't?"

She thought about it for a moment, feeling petty, "No, I'm just not used to it." He held up her coat for her, and she murmured "thank you."

"Where would you like to continue our conversation?" he asked again, hoping she would choose somewhere private.

"Is your place free?" she asked, "of eavesdropping vampires?"

"Yes," he smiled, "they're on campus, remember?"

He drove at a reasonable pace, and Bella considered if this was to avoid drawing attention to himself, or for her benefit. She decided in favour of blending in.

In the house, Bella chose one of the two chairs that sat adjacent to the window, the broad space of each allowing her to curl her legs up beside her. They were placed close enough, she could tell, that the two people in them could touch easily.

"I stopped just before Thanksgiving weekend," he said softly. "You know that part," he said, "and I'd prefer not to describe it."

She nodded, not wanting go hear it herself. "Why did you leave the knife in my room?" she asked, her voice trembling over the question.

"I wanted you to know that I was real, Bella, that you weren't going insane. You were so—distraught—that day, when I stopped you."

"And what else," She asked, her voice even, "do you know about that weekend?"

"I heard Carlisle's thoughts, and those of the nurse, when you were at the hospital," he began.

She raised her eyebrows at this, knowing he knew more. "And the rest?"

He blew out a breath at this, his cheeks slightly puffed. "When Jacob came to see you, I heard your conversation."

She nodded, eyes down, knowing she hadn't had real privacy, for a long time. She couldn't help but blush, knowing what was coming.

"Jacob's thoughts are very...loud," he said. He wasn't sure how explicitly she wanted him to be. "You were...with him," he said softly. "And you broke up with him that weekend too." Pausing, he added, "He hurt you," his voice low, and dark, "badly enough that Carlisle thought it was deliberate." He waited until she had looked up at him, cued by his silence. "And you love us both."

Bella made direct eye contact for her next question. "Are you jealous?" She studied his face, watching the microscopic emotions play over his visage. It was asked honestly. She wasn't sure what he would say. He had left, after all.

"Yes," he said, eventually. "And angry."

"Why?" she asked, her mind tending to a very distinct answer.

"He hurt you Bella," Edward said, his brows pushed together, as if this was obvious.

She laughed, an unbelieving sound, incredulous. "You're upset because of some bruises?"

"He bit you," he growled out. "Left a festering wound."

She had stood by this point, shaking her head, pacing, and he stood as well. "Do you have any idea how hypocritical that is?"

"I never bit you Bella. Or left you bruised at my hands." He was angry, his voice sharp over the consonants.

"No," she said, "you just broke my heart." She was breathing heavily, her face flushed angrily.

He stopped at these words, looking down. He couldn't deny his wrong was greater, but to hear it in her words, made him want to grovel for forgiveness. If he thought it would do any good, he woud.

She was having trouble keeping her emotions in check, and it was late, but she couldn't end the night without saying it. "Jacob was there for me Edward. He kept me alive—in more ways than one," she swallowed, "Don't malign him. Ever."

Edward paused, giving her some space to breath, and him some room to think, considering her words. "I'm sorry," he said, "you're right," adding, "do you want me to continue?"

Looking at the time, and at him, she could feel her body's needs pulling at her. She didn't trust herself, not to be near him with her guard down. "Not tonight," she said, "I need to head home."

"Can I offer you a ride?" he said, "or walk you there, at least?"

She didn't suppose he would actually let her walk there by herself, but she wanted the time to process everything, and she'd reached her threshold for his company.

 _Well_ , she thought, _let's test his ability to respect my wishes._

"I'd prefer to walk alone, thanks," she said, heading for the door. "Thank you for dinner, though, and your...honesty." She paused, startled again by his sudden appearance.

He grimaced slightly, "Sorry, it's easy to be myself with you. I know you're not used to it."

He was holding out her jacket again, and she let him help her put it on, this time without comment.

"Edward," she started, "I know you want to protect me, from worries, or bad things, but I need you to respect me first. So," she said, looking at him "I'm going to walk home. Alone. I'll call you when I get there."

She could see his jaw clenching.

 _He can call Alice if he's really worried_ , she told herself.

What she couldn't see was imagination going into overdrive, unpacking the many, and horrific things that could go wrong in the thirty minute walk through the dark.

"Goodnight," she said, opening the door.

"Wait," he said. His hand caught hers, and she took in a sharp breath of air, feeling the synchronous cold touches in her lungs, and fingers. Her breath came faster, and she found her body betraying all her words.

"Thank you," he said, "for coming to dinner with me," and let go of her hand reluctantly.

It was her imagination's turn to spin its own fantasies, these much different from Edward's. Before her desires took hold, she turned and walked swiftly away, too keenly aware of the shiver that made her flesh ripple in places where he'd never touched her.


	22. Missing

Missing

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"So, Bella," Cathy said, one icy late-January morning, "Who's the new guy?"

"Hmm?" Bella said, engrossed in her notes, her coffee tepid on the table.

"Um, seriously? The pretty one that every girl drools over every time he walks into the building? The one that has eyes only for you?"

"Oh," she said, still trying to grasp the theory covered in her morning class, "Edward?"

"Yes, Bella, him," she said, rolling her eyes.

"He's a friend," Bella answered carefully, sipping at her coffee.

"You're not dating?" Cathy's eyebrows were brushing her bangs.

"We were," Bella said, frowning at the term. "He broke it off, when he moved away," she shrugged, not wanting to talk more about it.

"Is that when you and Jacob—?" she started.

"Yeah," Bella said, looking at her watch, wanting an excuse to leave this conversation. "I think I'm going to head to my next class early, review before they start."

"Sure," Cathy said, watching her friend shrewdly. "But before you go, can I ask, is Edward available? As far as you're concerned?"

"Absolutely," Bella said, "Good luck," and turning, grinning to herself, felt this was a fair return, after the game she'd let Ben play with her last September.

Edward met her on the way back from the last class of the day, their greeting silent, walking alongside her. "That," he said, after a while, "was mean, with Cathy. Is she really your friend?"

Bella's eyebrows shot up, but she blushed, tellingly. "Payback," she said grinning, "can be a bitch sometimes," and arched an eyebrow, glancing at him sideways.

Edward chuckled, "what'd she do?" he asked.

Bella's grin slipped a bit. "She let me think that Ben was interested in her, to get me to go to a party with them. Last September."

Edward's face changed instantly, all signs of humour gone. "You still call her a friend, after that?"

She shook her head, "she couldn't know what he'd do. But still," grinning again, "I'm going to find her efforts very entertaining."

He stopped her as they passed under an sheltered breezeway, his hand just brushing her arm. He'd been careful not to touch her, respecting the distance she kept between them. "Do you actually consider me 'available'? As you put it?" There was a grin on his face, but she could see that it didn't reach his eyes.

She felt a guilty pang, seeing how he felt, "We've made no commitments to each other, Edward." Her voice was soft, and she looked down, saying it, scuffing her foot over the dry leaves on the ground.

Her hair had fallen in a curtain over the side of her face, and he dared to brush it out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. He felt her shiver, breathing in suddenly. "I would hope," he said, just as softly as her, "that my commitment to you would be apparent by now," and moving closer, "you have my heart, Bella Swann. So no, I'm not 'available,' as you put it." Smiling and stepping back, he added "even for your nefariously justified purposes."

They walked on in silence, Edward stiffening as they reached the residence.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing the change.

"The police," he answered, "they're looking for you." Seeing her alarmed look, "They want to ask you about Ben. He's missing."

"He is?" she said, "Since when?"

He was listening. "Last Thursday," he said, "did Jacob really threaten him?" he asked, adding incredulously, "in front of witnesses?"

"Yes," Bella said, feeling a knot of worry in her stomach. "Is he in trouble?"

"No, not yet," Edward said, "they just want to talk to you, and him. Separately of course." They kept walking, more slowly towards the entrance than before. "Oh," he said suddenly, his eyebrows up. "They're calling Charlie, to have him question Jacob."

Bella closed her eyes, remembering her last conversation with Charlie that involved Jacob, and then said a word Edward wasn't used to hearing her use. He wisely ignored it, saying instead, "there's nothing to worry about. They're trying to find him, this is standard. Unless you've killed him and stuffed the body somewhere?" he asked, almost hopefully, "because I'd rather hope you'd let me help with that."

Bella wasn't laughing though, and her brow was tightly furrowed.

"It'll be alright," he said again. "You've done nothing, and neither has Jacob."

"That you know," Bella said, remembering his anger, when she'd told him.

"Do you think he'd do something?"

She thought for a moment, "no," she said, "I asked him not to."

He was holding himself back, wanting to wrap her in his arms, reassure her, protect her from the spurious thoughts he could hear, but instead said, "best to go and speak with them now. You'll only worry, delaying it."

The police had just finished interviewing Grace, who was trembling like a leaf. Edward could hear her anxiety, her fear of them, boiling over. He quietly texted Jasper as Bella sat down in the lounge with the officers, hearing him knock on Grace's door with a timely invitation to tea. Her thoughts were already slowing, the reassurance of Jasper's presence, and gift, working quickly.

He could hear Alice's silent you and Jasper have a real sweet spot for that girl, but it was thought kindly, and he smiled, waiting for Bella. She cared for the girl, and he would too, out of his love for her.

She was holding her own in the interview, nervous as she was.

"I understand there were some bad feelings between you and Ben?" the female officer was asking.

"Yes," she answered.

"Can you explain why?"

Bella sighed. "Last fall, he kissed me when we were walking home. I told him no, he didn't listen. I kneed him, and took off." Edward could hear the rustle of her shirt as she shrugged.

"His friend said you hit him?" the officer continued, noting her cast.

"He spiked my drink with something in December. My friend saw it, and nothing happened, but then he tried to do it to my roommate. He laughed when I confronted him about it. I figured my fist would make a better impression than my words."

Edward smiled, the female officer approved of Bella's course of action. Her male colleague was suspicious that she hadn't reported any of this to the police.

"Why didn't you file a complaint?" he asked.

"I had no proof," she answered. "My Dad's a cop. I know when to report, and when not to."

"Did you speak to anyone else about it?" she asked, her pen scratching on her notepad.

As Edward listened to the rest of the interview, he could hear Bella's heart rate increasing. She was worried. What about though?

He shifted, making himself look relaxed, sitting on the chair outside the room. They wanted to speak with him too.

Bella looked at him pleadingly as she came out, and he understood. She was worried about Jacob.

He nodded infinitesimally, "I'll meet you by your room, OK?" he said, standing, and she breathed a sigh of relief, walking away. He did his best, deflecting as much of the attention as he could away from Jacob Black, and met Bella in her room a few minutes later.

She stood as soon as he entered, "well?" she asked. "What did they want to know?"

"They were just verying what you said," he answered. "Jacob will be fine."

Her hug surprised him, and he returned it, burying his face in her hair, his heart lurching with happiness, and an unexpected jealousy for Jacob Black, that he should inspire such feeling in the woman he loved.

The embrace lingered, and he kept his hands still, wrapped around her back, not wanting to startle her out of it. Her tears were warm on his shirt, and the jealousy vanished, leaving him feeling petty and small. He breathed her scent in, and out, memorizing again its complexity, fighting the urge to find her lips with his own.

It was only when she began to tremble, and he worried she was cold that he let his arms slacken, his heart aching at breaking the contact. She brought her own hands to lay flat on his chest, her forehead resting at his collarbone, breathing carefully in and out. The tears were still flowing, and he risked wiping one away with his thumb, his fingers resting gently on her cheek, as he did so.

It was Bella who finally brought her lips to his, and Edward, so unaccustomed to the intimate touch of her body shivered, steeling himself against his baser urges. Jacob's thoughts swam before him, and he wrestled with the twin desires to possess her as he had, imagining them twined together on her bed, or consume her, as his very nature dictated. He forced his mind to hold, with a strained tenacity, Jacob's memory of her shoulder, bitten and bleeding, and Carlisle's horror, seeing her bruised torso.

Bella's hands knew no such fear, and drew him closer, her hips molded against his, as she explored the lower curvature of his back.

He allowed his own hands to slide to her hips, where he traced the arch of her bones, sliding up to her back, finally spanning her ribcage, his thumbs almost brushing the underside of her breasts.

So focused on Bella, Edward wasn't paying attention to the many minds about them, and it was only when he heard the key in the lock, that he knew they were about to be interrupted. The stiffening of his arms was enough for Bella though, and she pulled away, hand to her mouth, horrified.

"I'm so sorry," she said, turning and running out of the room, past a startled Grace, who looked to Edward for explanation.

"Pardon me," he said, brushing past her also, followed Bella's scent.

He found her huddled outside, crouched against the wall on the treed side of the building. She put out her hand when she heard him approach, telling him to keep his distance. He pulled off his jacket, and wrapped it around her, and then mirrored her position, just out of arm's reach.

"Bella," he said softly. "Why are you upset?"

She made a sound between a laugh and a sob, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not sorry," he said, "at all."

"I know, you're not," she said. "But we're not...together, and I know what that means to you. And this is very confusing."

He could see she was still shivering, and the setting sun wasn't helping much. "I don't think freezing will help you feel any better," he said, "perhaps we can go back inside?"

She stood, going into the foyer, slipping off his jacket, handing it to him. He took it, reluctantly.

"I need some space, please," she said, not daring to look at him, afraid of what she might do.

"As much as you need," he said, his body screaming its protest against this.

"I'll...see you," she said, awkwardly turning and heading back to her room.

He watched her go, feeling like his heart was walking away, thumping hard in the confines of her flesh.


	23. Trouble

**Trouble**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Bella!" Charlie said, hearing her voice. "This is a surprise. Didn't expect you to call today. What's up?"

"Dad, has anyone asked you to go question Jacob? Like, Seattle PD?"

Charlie's eyebrows hit his hairline hard. "If I had, you know I couldn't talk about it, if it's an active case," he said.

"Dad," she said, all patience gone, "you say that all the time, and then you talk about cases over dinner with me. Have they?"

He sighed. "I have," he said, "in the most general terms. I can't, really, talk about this with you, but I can tell you're pretty upset, so why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

It was Bella's turn to sigh. Several times. She explained what had happened with Ben, and that he was missing.

After scolding her for not reporting any of it, he pressed her for details of what had happened with Jacob. "And he threatened him in front of witnesses?" Charlie's exasperated breath rattled the receiver at her ear.

Bella was beginning to see that it hadn't been Jacob's best move.

"Bella, sweetie," he started, and Bella cringed. This was the endearment that previewed difficult conversations. "I know you said what happened with you and him was consensual, but, given what you've just told me, don't you think that maybe they're right to question him?"

She was frustrated, wishing she was there in person to have this conversation with him. "No," she said, almost instantly. "He's not...violent, Dad. He—"

"Just leaves his girlfriend bitten and bruised, and threatens to hurt people who've tried to hurt her?" he finished for her.

"Dad, you make him sound awful. Can you please just have an open mind? This is _Jacob_ we're talking about. Remember how I was last fall, and how he helped me? I mean, have you ever seen him be violent?" Her voice was pleading, anxious. She couldn't believe he had anything to do with Ben's disappearance.

Charlie sighed again. "I always keep an open mind, Bella, especially with my line of work. And if I had been asked to question him, I would do it with an open mind." He paused, adding, "it sounds like this is a missing persons case, and knowing the typical male college kid, he's probably run off on a bender, and will be back, hungover like heck, in a few days. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Charlie shifted the conversation to other points, and asked about her plans for reading break, just a few weeks away.

"Well, actually, I was thinking of taking a trip," she said, remembering the conversation she'd had with Edward two days before.

"You know," he said, "these are still good," and waved the airline vouchers she'd been given by Carlisle and Esme. "I'm surprised you haven't used them."

She'd forgotten about them, tucked away in her books. "I wasn't really up for travelling, last year," she said quietly.

"I can imagine," he said softly, adding, "have you seen your mom, at all?" realizing that she likely hadn't, or that he hadn't heard about it.

"No," she said, not since the Christmas before last, and it had been a poor visit, she lost in the depths of her misery.

"Why don't you go see her, for reading break?" he asked. "See some sun, too," he added, looking at her skin, so pale and taut.

She'd looked at him strangely then, her eyes considering something. "Would you go with me?" she asked, her voice soft.

"If you'd like that, yes," he'd said.

Bella was less certain of the wisdom of the invitation, but she still wanted to see Renee, and part of her wanted Renee to see Edward and her together.

"Where were you thinking of going?" Charlie asked, imagining a road trip in the fickle weather of February.

"Well, the Cullens gave me airline vouchers for my birthday before last, and I thought I might use them to see Mom."

"They gave you tickets?" he asked, surprised. "You never mentioned them."

"No," she said, "it was Edward who reminded me of them, actually," she said, with far less confidence.

"Edward?" he asked, his voice rising to an angry tone.

Bella cleared her throat. "Yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"Are you two...seeing, each other?" Charlie finally asked.

"No," she said, "but, he's a friend, well...can we just say it's complicated?" she finally asked, not sure how to explain what was happening.

"Wait," Charlie said, "did you say tickets? As in, more than one?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"Ohh," he breathed out, "he's going with you, isn't he?" It was an accusation, plain and simple.

"Yes," she admitted. "I want to see him, with Mom," she finished this with a sigh. "I know, you think it's a crappy idea."

Charlie had more words for this idea than he cared to share. She could hear him huff over the phone. He finally settled on something positive, saying, "I think it would be good for you to see your mom, and I know she'd love to see you. Can't imagine having some sun would be a bad thing either. Even if Edward's there too."

It was about the nicest thing Bella could imagine him saying about Edward, and she grinned to herself, hearing it.

"We'll be gone for a few days, but then I'd like to come back to see you too, towards the end of the break, if that's OK," she said, uncertain what the welcome would be, all things considered.

"You're always welcome here, Bella, it's your home," Charlie said, his voice showing an edge of gruffness, his version of emotion. "I'm assuming Edward will be making an appearance then too."

"Maybe," she said. "I don't know."

Charlie gave a low grunt.

It seemed like a good point to end the conversation, but as they were saying their goodbyes, Charlie cautioned her, "Bells, you can't say anything to Jacob. You understand?"

"OK," she said, resignedly.

"Because if you do, it's interference in a police investigation. Not something I want to have to ever explain to a prosecutor. Got it?"

"Sure," she said, the worry fresh again.

Ending the call, she looked at Grace, already in her pajamas, and wished earnestly for a friend, or a timely distraction. It was the sort of time she would have called Jacob during, and felt a pang again at the loss of her friend. They hadn't spoken since Christmas, and she knew she needed to make the break clean, give them time to find their footing again as only friends. If that was ever possible.

She settled, instead, into the less than satisfactory company of a book, troubled dreams taking on where her troubled day ended.


	24. Over the moon

**Over the moon**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"So," the familiar voice said, without preamble. "You should see the char marks on me. I spent the last hour getting grilled by your dad. Apparently, on police business."

"Jacob!" Bella exhaled, relieved to hear his voice. "I'm so sorry—"

"I know, I know," he said, and she could hear the width of his grin. "He told me you couldn't tell me, and then he told me to call you. Said you were pretty upset."

"How bad was it?" she said, still worried.

He paused, and her stomach contorted itself. "The bits where he asked about the missing asshole? Not at all bad."

Bella sighed again in relief, "and he knows you had nothing to do with it, right?"

"Of course," he said, dismissing this, "but, the questions about you," and he blew out a big breath, "were trickier."

"Sorry Jake—I talked to him, explained—God that was embarrassing—"

"What did you explain, exactly?" he asked, his tone worried.

"Oh," she said, "Well," and sighed again. "When I got burned, and went to the hospital, it was Carlisle I saw."

She could hear Jacob's wince, with his "oh."

"Yeah," she said, "talk about awkward. Anyway, the nurse and he thought I was being abused, so they filed a report, which Charlie saw." She took a breath, and continued on, "and then, with the bite, they wouldn't believe me when I told them it was consensual, so they filed another one. So, I had to explain that it was. To Charlie." She was a florid shade of pink by this point, grateful that Jacob couldn't see her.

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry. Really, I am," he said, and she knew he was.

"What did he ask you?" she asked, squishing her face up in anticipation of his answer.

He didn't laugh, but she could hear his smile, "Lots, all related to you. I told him he should speak to you directly, if he wanted answers. He wasn't too pleased about it."

"I can imagine," Bella murmured.

"But, on the upside, I got sprung from the entire afternoon at school."

"Jacob, you are terrible," Bella said, but smiled, remembering her good news, "Oh, I'll be home for a bit in February."

"Awesome!" He said, and then paused, as did Bella, both of them remembering their last time seeing each other.

"I should go," he said suddenly, "but don't be a stranger, OK? Call me sometimes, please?"

Hanging up, Bella barely had time to process their conversation before her phone buzzed with a text, from Alice.

Ready to have your cast off? It read.

She typed back: Yes, please!

The response was instantaneous, and she wondered if Alice already knew her responses, with her gift.

Good. It said. After class tonight.

Her expectations of seeing Alice, though, were rudely shoved aside, when she emerged from her class, to find Edward, engaged in polite conversation with Cathy, who was waging war with her most feminine charms.

It softened the shock, seeing the ridiculousness of the scene, and Bella bit her lip, keeping her grin from spreading over her face.

Good luck Cathy, she thought. As she approached, Edward's gaze turned to Bella, Cathy forgotten in the background. He smiled, asking, "ready to lose the cast?"

She nodded, giving a small smile, keeping a tactful distance from them

It was at this point that she noticed Carlisle, making a slow approach.

"Hi Bella," he said softly, and then looking at Cathy, inclined his head gently, waiting for her introduction.

"Oh, Cathy," Bella said softly, "this is Dr. Cullen, Edward's father." Smiling, she added, "Cathy is in the same residence as me." Carlisle didn't offer his hand, but nodded, and gave a quiet "Hello."

Giving Bella his attention again, Carlisle said, "Let's go get your cast off then. I've got a spot for us to do an X-ray," and they said their goodbyes to Cathy, walking towards the black Mercedes, waiting outside.

Bella was uncomfortable, not having been with Carlisle since that last, disastrous hospital visit. When they pulled up to the campus hospital, Carlisle went ahead, and Edward asked her, "You OK with this? I thought it would be good to have someone more practised check my work—but I knew you didn't want the...scrutiny...another doctor here might have." He looked anxious to please her, and she felt a guilty squirm.

"It's fine," she said, clearing her throat. "I appreciate you going to the trouble, thank you."

Edward's work, as he put it, had been impeccable, and he was clearly relieved, seeing so on the x-ray.

Carlisle handed him the scissors, with a smile, and a "you do the honours," but his face fell slightly, seeing Bella's expression. She recovered quickly though, and nodded, forcing herself to keep still.

"Whoa," she said, feeling her hand. "It's like having a dead fish on the end of my arm."

Edward smiled, "smells better, though," he said, "by far." Watching her tense at his touch, he gestured to Carlisle, "I'll leave the mobility testing to the expert, though," and stood, walking away, pretending to look, in greater detail, at the x-ray.

Carlisle gave her his standard reassuring smile, and said, "you're good to go. Best to avoid anything strenuous with it for a few days yet." His work done, he smiled at Bella, standing. "Alright, I'll see you both then, have a good night," and made his way from the room.

"I'll take you home," Edward said softly, and Bella nodded, walking beside him, but a careful few steps apart, towards the car.

"I'd understand," Edward said, "if you'd prefer someone else to go with you, to see your Mom." It was said softly, and in such a way that she knew he meant it, and meant it well.

The problem was, she wanted him to come with her. She just wasn't sure she trusted herself, to have him with her, for such a prolonged period of time.

She needed space, still, but...but. She sighed mentally. Being around him was like being around a fine wine for an alcoholic. She knew he might not be good for her, but she still craved him.

The craving won out.

"Actually, I would like you to come with me. That's...if you still want to," she said, her insecurity raising its head, looking around to see what fresh work it could take on.

"I'd love to," he said, smiling at her. "Do you want to make the plans? Or, would you let me?"

She gave a small knowing smile, crooking an eyebrow, imagining there were some logistics she would be unaware of. "No, probably better if you do."

And so, the fortnight seemed to have disappeared, and she found herself in the spare room at her mother's, Renee babbling on about the broken air conditioning, with profuse apologies. Bella had shaken her head, and hugged her again, grateful that she was simply there.

Edward had explained, in more detail than Bella thought was necessary, the medical reasons for his avoiding sunlight, along with his prescribed medical diet—of which he had brought a small stock, in his suitcase. She appreciated that it wasn't too far from the truth. Being in the sun would be highly dangerous, and he did have a particular diet.

By the second night, Bella was roasting, even in February. It had been unseasonably hot, and she'd worn her lightest clothes, still sweltering through the day.

"Want to go for a walk on the beach?" Edward asked. "It should be cooler there."

Renee had looked at the two of them, quietly muttering, "not dating," and shaking her head, walking away.

Bella closed her eyes, sighing, blushing, "Yeah, that'd be nice."

There had been a breeze, but not enough to make a substantial difference.

"I hate to say it, but I'm glad I chose Seattle. This is ridiculous," Bella said, pulling her shirt from her abdomen.

They were seated on the sand, watching the waves in the fading light. They were practically alone, only a few people in the distance, strolling away.

"Here," he said, and moved his legs apart, holding his arms open.

"That," she said, "is incredibly sneaky."

He grinned, but said softly, "I promise to do nothing untoward," and Bella scooted herself over, sighing at the relief of his coolness.

She let herself lean back, and felt Edward's hands rest lightly on her shoulders. It was a relief to feel the coolness spreading over her back, and she sighed into it. They stayed that way for a while, listening to the surf kiss the shore, its own touch sliding away and repeating.

Edward could feel, under the splay of his fingers, the uneven pull of her muscles, as she shifted minutely, with each breath. He frowned, concerned, "you're off balance."

She turned her head back slightly, puzzled, "what do you mean?"

"Your musculature," he mumbled, tracing his hands lightly over her arms and upper back. "You've got a severe pull to the left. You should see a massage therapist when you get home. Your hand—it's thrown off your balance."

She shrugged, "feels fine," she said, "and I doubt it's covered by my insurance."

"Sure," he said, "it does now, but these things tend to get worse with time, without intervention." He was pressing lightly, and she was feeling her body respond to his touch in ways she wasn't anticipating. "May I?" he asked, belatedly. "I can release some of the tension here," he said, touching her shoulder blade, and "here," at her neck.

"OK," she whispered, and felt his hands kneading lightly.

"It doesn't work if you don't relax," he said, a soft chuckle in his voice.

She made her muscles release, and the tension slipped from her and into his fingers, the places where their flesh met both hot and cold, together.

He knew some technique, but the finer points of massage were lost on him. She really did need to see someone, and smiled when he found a compromise she thought he'd accept.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, "if you promise to go see a massage therapist."

This did make her tense again, and she half turned, eyeing him suspiciously. "What sort of deal?"

He pulled her back into his arms gently, keeping his hands still again, simply cooling her. "I'll fix your mother's air conditioning, if you let me pay for a massage therapist." He could tell she was uncomfortable with this, her fingers rubbing the grains of sand between her fingers, picking at rocks she found in them. "I'm pretty sure I can get it working again, and, I think it would save your mom about the same amount of money." She squirmed uncomfortably, and he breathed out a long breath. "Bella?"

"Yes?" she murmured.

"You only get one body. Please take care of it," he said softly, and earnestly.

"Alright," she said, not sure how equitable this deal was.

"Alright," he said, "I'll be good to have something productive to do tomorrow when you're out."

"I'm sorry," she said, "you must be bored here, stuck inside" she shook her head.

"Oh no," he answered her, leaning forward ever so slightly, feeling his own body take more of her heat, "I'm over the moon, really, to be able to spend time with you. And your mom. She's an exceptional person."

"Really?" Bella asked, turning again, looking at him incredulously.

"Yes," he said, not elaborating more on specifics. It seemed unfair to unpack Renee's mind to her daughter, so he said, "her mind is...truly unique, of those I've heard. It doesn't surprise me, knowing you."

Bella blushed at the compliment, and, feeling the conversation moving into an area she was uncomfortable with—compliments to herself—stood. "It's late, we should head back."

Later, laying restlessly in the guest room bed, Bella was debating taking as cold a shower as the lukewarm water here would provide, or moving to the floor, trying to decide which would be colder. She was surprised by the knock at the door.

"Bella?" It was Edward's voice, a quiet whisper.

She blushed, hearing it, and then scolded herself. Why? It wasn't like he hadn't been in her room before. But then, she reminded herself, Charlie hadn't raised his eyebrows in surprise when she and Edward had said they would sleep separately, and certainly hadn't rolled his eyes and told them that the condoms were in the first floor bathroom, either, like Renee had.

Definitely not.

"Come in," she said, and he did, quietly, grinning, seeing her exasperated, sweaty self.

"I know," she said, looking at him, "I look amazing."

He chuckled, and then said sincerely, "You always do." Pausing, he asked, pointing to the living room, "do you want to come sit with me for a bit, cool down?"

She considered it, but was so exhausted, asking instead, "actually, would here...be OK?"

Keeping his face impassive, he nodded, and joined her, she laying her back against his front, one arm over her, the other making a hard pillow for her head.

"Thank you," she said yawning, falling asleep almost instantly.

She was surprised, when she woke in the early morning, to find him seated as far away from her on the bed as he could get, legs and arms folded.

"Morning," she said, frowning, "did I kick you in the middle of the night, or something?"

"No," he said softly, not moving yet. "You had a very...lucid...dream. About Jacob Black," he added quietly.

Her blush made her feel hotter than she thought possible, in the stuffy space. "Oh," she said.

"You seemed to think I was him."

"Sorry," she managed, still horrified.

He smiled reassuringly. "It was just a dream, Bella." He didn't add that she had turned to him, suddenly, startlingly, her fingers digging into the softness of his shirt, her mouth finding his neck, whispering "Jacob". Or, that her other hand had found its lower mark, leaving him gasping and aroused, stunned by her touch. He had struggled not to respond, and it had been a herculean feat to gently pry her fingers from him, as she had moaned, her body arching back, feeling him against her. Her shirt had sipped, revealing the welt of her shoulder's moon-shaped cut, now barely a pink line, and it had chilled him beyond himself. He could do that, and so much worse, he told himself. He detached her from him bodily, watching the thrashing of the dream from a safe distance, relieved when the peace of sleep returned. He hadn't dared return to her, not wanting to test his self-control again.

He wanted her to call his name that way. To turn to him, knowingly, wanting him.

But he said nothing of it, instead, quietly muttering, "I'll get the air conditioning working today."


	25. Home for a rest

**Home for a rest**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Some of you speculated about that bite. Now you get your answer.

* * *

When Edward had asked if he could drive home to Forks with her, she had turned to him with an exasperated head shake. "And," she said, "By drive with me, you mean you want to drive, right?"

"Only if you want me to," he answered.

She was surprised when he honoured this, only suggesting, after watching her start to yawn late in the drive, adhered to the speed limit, speculating this had more to do with prolonging their time together than pleasing her.

"Think you can handle the last bit yourself?" he asked playfully, parking a few blocks from her place.

"Chickening out about seeing Charlie?" she asked, just as playfully, but with an edge to her voice.

"Not at all," he said, "but I don't think he'd appreciate seeing me, and I have no desire to torment him with my presence."

Bella thought about this for a moment, and nodded, agreeing.

"Esme was wondering if you'd come for dinner, while you're here," he said softly, "they've all missed you, would like to see you," he added.

This was still a sore point for Bella. They had all left. Not just Edward, and their betrayal still needled.

Seeing the grim set of her mouth, he added, "but only if you want." He opened the car door, and she almost grabbed his hand, stopping herself, her fingers hovering over the console.

"That would be very nice," she said, taking a deep breath in, "when?"

"Saturday night? Before we head back?"

"Sure," she nodded. "I'll see you all then."

"You can see me anytime you want, Bella," Edward said softly, smiling, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut.

Charlie had been happily relieved to see her, his hug long and enthusiastic.

The house had been a surprise. It was...different. Sue had made some quiet, but well thought out changes with Charlie, and Bella was pleased to find that the ancient, and barely functioning stove had finally been replaced, and a few walls repainted.

Charlie looked happier too, and the fridge had real food in it—which she was shocked to discover, he had actually prepared himself.

"Man," she said quietly, "looks like i need to find something else to do to be useful around here."

He laughed, and shook his head, "no, just good to have you home," hugging her again.

When she told him that she was going to see Jacob the next day, he'd taken a deep breath in, and nodded.

"Dad," she said, seeing it, "does that really bother you? I mean, do you really think Jacob is trouble? Or," and here she paused, waiting for him to swallow his food, "would you prefer that I had Edward in my life?"

His grip on his fork became suddenly tighter.

"And the third option is?" he asked, then shook his head. "Really, Bella, does it come down to between those two? You haven't met anyone else?"

"Oh, sure, there's the guy that spiked my drink. He was a keeper, but he's gone missing," she said drily. "Seriously, can you not just keep an open mind about Jacob and Edward?"

He gave up on eating at this point, resting his hands on his lap. "Really? We're discussing the merits of the men who broke your heart after abandoning you, and the one who left you bitten and bruised? Do you even have a sense of self-worth?"

They were both angry by now, and neither had much of an appetite remaining.

Shoving away from the table, Bella said, "I'm going out, I'll see you later Dad," and left, hearing him call her name, but not caring to answer.

It was a short drive to the rez, when you were steaming mad.

She hoped it wasn't too late for a visit, on a school night, but Billy's warm greeting reassured her, and Jacob's hug almost crushed her.

"Can we…" she started, "go for a walk on the beach, or something?" she asked, once the hubbub of her arrival had died down.

"Yeah," Jacob said, "let me grab an extra jacket though."

"What, you get cold these days?" Bella asked, surprised.

"No," Jacob scoffed, "it's for you. It's February Bella, gets kinda chilly down there at night. With the wind. Remember?"

She did, and recalled, quite suddenly, and vividly, the crushing chill of the water last March.

"So," he said, "how was your Mom?" carefully avoiding asking how Edward was. He'd heard, via Billy and Charlie, who she went with.

They talked at length of the trip, and school, and when she began to shiver, even with the extra jacket, he put his arm around her. He avoided mention of the smell in her hair, but wondered at the deeper scents, that left him partially aroused. She still smelled...like him, he realized.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked suddenly.

"Fine," she said, looking at him, surprised by the turn of conversation. "Why?"

He shrugged, looking awkward, and she misinterpreted it as guilt. "It's fine Jake. Oh God, did my Dad—"

"No," he said, "it's just, well, you smell different."

She blushed, thinking he meant of Edward.

They walked on, reaching their favourite spot. The ancient log gave shade in summer, and a wall against the wind in winter. They leaned against it, their backs to the water, watching the last traces of the moon illuminate the shift of the trees. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her back to his chest, trying to give her the benefit of his body heat.

The strange and inverted parallel of her trip to the beach with Edward a few days before was not lost on her. She would have laughed, if she didn't feel Jacob, so clear in his bodily desire, behind her.

"You know," Jacob said, almost hearing her thoughts, his words whispered to her ear, "I learned a new term last month."

"Oh yeah," she said, feeling his breath hot there, half her brain immobilized by the sensation of his lips so close to her neck.

"Apparently," he said, still letting his lips rest there, still purportedly just keeping her warm, "there's a term for friends, that occasionally, you know, you sleep with. No, no, no—" he said, feeling her start to pull away. "I'm not suggesting that at all, just sayin', it's called having 'friends with benefits'."

Bella laughed, the spell of his touch broken.

Jacob continued on. "I just wanted to make sure you knew I'm totally OK with being your friend," he paused, clearing his throat, "with benefits—if you want." Then he laughed.

She extracted herself successfully, their laughter fading, and the familiar guilt taking hold inside again.

"You are my friend Jacob, so maybe I should head home," she said softly. "Actually," and she swallowed, "I had a big argument with Charlie, before I left. He'll worry if I'm not back soon, and he's got work tomorrow."

"Hey," he said, catching her hand. "I'm sorry, I made you uncomfortable. I know where we stand, Bella." He waited, watching her, then smiled, "but it's nice to see you laugh—even if only at my completely inappropriate sense of humour."

She nodded, smiling, but the feeling teetered on the unsure edge of friendship—and more. "Come on," she said, attempting levity, "keep me from breaking an arm of something on the way back."

"Sure," he said, happy for an excuse to hold her hand.

Charlie was overwrought with apologies when she came back, and she offered her own too.

"I don't want to fight about this dad, but yes, both these people are in my life. I'm just not sure if Edward will be more than a friend. Not yet, anyway." She looked at him, holding his gaze, as he grimaced through these words. Finally, he nodded, acknowledging the state of affairs, not happy, but resolved to honour her wishes.

Edward had texted, to remind her of dinner. Charlie had raised his eyebrows at this. When the invite expanded to include him, he'd growled a terse, "no thank you." That he managed to say "hello" to Edward, was a near miracle. He didn't ask when they'd be back, but raised his eyebrows when she didn't take her keys. He did say, "no drinking and driving," with greater force than Bella thought was necessary. Edward's murmured "of course not," mollified him some.

Esme's hug was not a surprise, and Bella's hard feelings melted a bit at it, but Emmett's death grip and laugh dislodged them even further.

"Oh man, you have no idea how glad I am to see you again. Do you have any idea how miserable Edward was when you weren't around?" he said.

"Thanks Emmett," she smiled, nervously looking at Rosalie, who smiled politely, and gave a soft "hello."

In charge of dinner, Esme tugged everyone except Carlisle away, surprising Bella, and not pleasantly.

"Can I talk with you, privately, Bella?" he asked, gesturing towards his office.

She furrowed her brow, wondering what he could want to speak with her about.

When they sat down together, he didn't keep her waiting. "I wanted to apologise Bella, from all of us, for leaving you, when we did."

This was definitely not what she expected.

"Oh," she said, caught off guard.

"Edward insisted," he said, "that you would be safer, and after what happened with James, and with Jasper," he added, "we really thought it would be best. Clearly, we were very wrong." He looked at her, concern, "and I know that this apology doesn't begin to heal the hurts we left you with, and that happened when we were gone."

She nodded, listening.

"I want you to know, that if there's anything we can do, to address this wrong, we will do it happily. And we hope you'll tell us if there is something."

She had no idea what she could possibly ask of them, that would begin to address that harrowing year. She shook her head, suddenly emotional, not wanting to cry in front of him.

"I don't expect you to say anything now, Bella. And I'm sorry to spring this on you. But it needed to be said. It's from all of us. I know Edward has made his own apologies."

Nodding, she breathed in heavily.

"Edward's here," he said softly, lifting his chin to the closed door, "but perhaps you'd prefer a moment alone?" he asked.

"Alone," she mouthed, not wanting to hold her defenses up amongst the many emotions she was feeling.

"Alright," Carlisle said, standing. "Come join us when you're ready."

She sat, feeling ambushed emotionally, processing the wave of feeling that simply being in their house dredged up, let alone the apology. The acknowledgement that they were wrong.

It was validating, to say the least. To know they saw what they'd done had ultimately been harmful. But it didn't heal the broken trust that still hovered between her and Edward.

And that was it, really. She couldn't trust him. Not yet. Not with her heart.

Deciding she'd lingered long enough, she walked to the door, half expecting to see Edward lurking there, but found him instead, at the piano, his fingers playing lightly over the keys.

"New song?" she asked, not having heard him play since...before, she realized.

"Haven't played much," he said, his own body softening as she sat beside him.

"Dinner's ready," Esme called, and they went to the table, Bella feeling strange, the sole eater there. The conversations bubbled around her though, and she found herself slipping into a sense of comfort, Emmett's jokes, and Alice's quipped replies making her feel at home.

She had been surprised when Edward had offered her a glass of wine. "That's not legal, you know," she said, an eyebrow crooked playfully. He shrugged.

"It's a nice one, though," he said, "and Esme picked it, thinking you might like it," he smiled. "But we have lots of other things to drink too," he added.

She shook her head smiling, "A small glass, thank you"

That small glass went straight to her head, an unaccustomed drinker, and Edward watched the subtle flush become more overt on her face. It only made her more beautiful to him.

They chatted together, lost in their own conversation, and it was with some surprise, she looked up, laughing at a joke he'd made, to see that they were alone.

"Ok," she said, "I know I didn't drink that much. Where is everyone?"

"They thought they'd give us some time alone," he said softly. "Though, I think it was more for my benefit than yours," he said, closing his eyes, and smiling, "it's nice to just hear your voice," he said. "They're all a little...loud...with excitement, to have you back."

Bella blushed even more, flattered, and uneasy too.

"They do know we're not—" she stopped, uncomfortable with the nebulous state of their relationship.

"They do," he said. "You were missed for your own sake, Bella."

Nodding, she looked around. "Where's the chess board?" she asked, wanting a break from the seriousness, but curious too to see if she'd maintained her skill.

"Up in my room." He said. "Should we play here, or there?" he asked.

Looking at the sky, she knew he'd have a beautiful view from upstairs, and it was a rare, moonless night. The stars would be bright. "There," she said, and stood, a little wobbly from the wine, following him.

She wasn't sure she was in the right room, when they stopped. "Wait, why—?" looking at the newest addition, a bed.

"I wanted a place for you, in case you wanted to spend the night," he said. Seeing the look on her face, at the four poster king-sized bed, "Too much?" he asked.

"Yes," she laughed. "I think an air mattress would have sufficed," and shook her head. "Vampires," she grumbled playfully.

He pretended to pout in response, which made her laugh even more.

"That, or this is all part of your master plan to seduce me," she said, melodramatically. "Invites woman over for dinner with his family, who emotionally wrap her around their fingers with apologies, plies her with wine," and she shook her head dramatically, "and then lures her to his room with offers of chess. Mmm-hmm," she said. "Totally above board."

"You think," he asked, "that I bought a bed, to seduce you with?" He smiled, watching her, as he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

"Considering that I wasn't planning on spending the night, it certainly does look that way," she said, eyebrow arched, running a finger lightly over the cover.

Edward remembered exactly what it felt like when she did that over him, and was suddenly caught, completely unexpectedly, by a wave of visceral jealousy for what Jacob Black had had with her. It was with a stab of doubt that he closed the gap between them physically.

"Bella," he said, walking towards her, and sliding his hands around her low back, feeling her soften at his touch, "if I wanted to seduce you, you wouldn't stand a chance at saying no. So," he said, watching her breathing come faster, "it's a good thing, I suppose," breathing the words over her neck, and lifting and laying her on the bed where he suspended himself over her, "that I have no plans to do so." Now whispering his words to the tender spot behind her ear, and her cheek, hovering over her lips, "if you kiss me, it will be because you want it, not me." Her breath was ragged now, and she closed her eyes, the brush of his body over her demonstrating just how mutual their feeling was.

It was like breathing, to bring her hands to his head, to bring their lips together and feel him reciprocate. The kiss grew, expanding into an embrace that found his lips at her neck, and her hands reacquainting themselves with the softness of his hair.

And, it was just as suddenly that she tried to push him away, surprised by her anger, and her tears.

He was stunned by the shift, and didn't move immediately, eliciting an angry "stop!" from Bella.

Moving carefully, he rolled off of her, standing, watching her do so far less gracefully, uncertain of her balance.

She stumbled out of the room, and down the stairs, getting her coat, and grabbing his car keys, still in tears.

"Bella, wait," he said, appearing suddenly in front of her. "I'll drive you, or someone else can, but no—please. You've been drinking."

When she didn't return the keys, he blocked the doorway. "Bella, I'm sorry, it was stupid of me, please, just wait."

"No," she choked out, throwing the keys at him angrily, "it was stupid of me! Stupid to come here, stupid to think you would respect me—and even more stupid to think I could respect myself around you!" This was finished with a frustrated roar on her part, as she walked out the door, catching herself as she tripped, and continuing on.

He stood watching, wondering how long it would be before she calmed down enough to accept a ride from someone. It was full dark, and he groaned to himself, thinking of the many ways she could get hurt just walking without a light, let alone at his own stupidity for letting his baser emotions rule him.

He followed her at enough of a distance to let herself think she was alone, but close enough that he could reach her if anything malignant lingered nearby.

After twenty minutes, she'd slowed her pace, and had pulled out her phone.

He was stunned by who she called, but supposed he shouldn't be.

"Jake?" she said, her voice shaky, "can you come get me? Please?" When she explained where she was, he could hear the glee on the other end of the line. "No problem!"

Edward waited as she did, still far enough away that she wouldn't know he was there. He could hear Jacob's possessive thoughts long before he could see, or smell him, and he grimaced at the tone of them. The anger towards the Cullens was so thick as to be palpable.

If Bella had any idea of the ill feeling Jacob harboured towards them, she hadn't said anything to Edward.

"Hey," her heard him call to her, getting out of the car. "What happened?" and he opened his arms to her. It made Edward cringe to see it, even more so when she returned the hug.

The wind shifted at this point, and Jacob looked up, his thoughts angrier and more hostile as Edward's scent reached him. "Eavesdropping is rude, even for a mind-reading blooksucker," he called out. Edward appeared from the shadows.

The possessive thoughts intensified, as did the stricture of his arm around Bella.

Calmed enough now to sense the tension between them, she shrugged out from under Jacob's arm, and said, "thank you for coming. Let's go."

Edward couldn't let her leave though, not without properly apologizing first. "Bella," he called, seeing her stop, and look at him. "I respect you deeply, and I am sorry for the mistake I made tonight. I hope you'll forgive me," he said.

"It wasn't just your mistake, Edward," she said quietly.

Jacob snorted loudly at this, muttering, "doubt it."

"Stay out of it, Jacob," came Edward's stern rebuke, and he moved closer to Bella, to let their conversation be their own.

"You know how I feel about you, Bella. Whatever you need—time, space, a wolf," he added, "I want you to be happy," he whispered to her.

It was the tone of Jacob's thoughts, already unpredictable, adolescent and volatile, shifting into a clearly angry and possessive repetition that startled him, and he pulled Bella away, seeing Jacob move towards them quickly. "Don't!" he warned, putting himself between Jacob and Bella, and more forcefully, "Get yourself under control first!"

Jacob answered by exploding, and there was a whirling ball of clothing and fur where Jacob and Edward had once stood.

Their fight was brief, punctuated by Bella's terrified shrieks at them to stop. It was only when she physically tried to move between them that they broke apart, both shaking from their rage, worry, and finally, relief, at seeing her physically unharmed.

Jacob moved himself, still a wolf, to cover Bella, snarling at Edward, who replied sarcastically, "yes, I can tell she's most comforted by that."

Jacob turned his head to look at her. She was shaking, and trembling, terrified, backing away slowly from him.

Edward laughed incredulously, the sound black in the night. "I'd check with her about that too."

Bella had recovered enough to wonder at this. "Edward, what are you talking about?"

A low growl erupted from Jacob, directed clearly at Edward.

"Well," he said back, "you should have told her yourself then, shouldn't you?" Keeping his eyes squarely on Jacob, he directed his voice, now softened, to Bella, "he sees you as his mate, Bella. That's why he...marked you." The word was levelled with distaste.

She put her hand to her shoulder, her mouth a horrified 'O.'

Edward's voice was harsh, and his face coloured by disgust as he spoke to Jacob again. "And you think I don't respect her? Don't, please, for her sake," shaking his head, as if to dislodge something from it.

"Jacob," she said, shaky and uncertain, "please stop, whatever it is you're doing." She was on the verge of tears again. "I would just like to go home."

The please recalled them both to themselves.

"He's going to change," Edward said softly to her, and then to Jacob more tersely, "I'll leave if she asks me to." Turning back, he asked her, "do you want me to go?"

What Bella wanted, was to dissolve into a puddle of nothingness, but shook her head instead, her hand up to keep him away when he tried to move towards her. She was shaking from the shock of seeing them fight, and understanding why they'd done so. She felt physically ill.

When Jacob returned a moment later, Bella wiped her eyes and walked to his car, still running, and got in. Jacob followed, his dark thoughts pointed at Edward, who looked on in silence.

At home, Charlie raised his eyebrows, seeing who had brought Bella back, and blew out a breath, not sure what to ask. He settled on giving Bella a hug, figuring that it would cover any number of possible situations. She shook her head when he asked if she wanted to talk about it.

The anger she'd felt at Edward, and that she was now harbouring towards Jacob had coalesced into a hard ball that sat in her stomach, and she wondered if it was even possible to have anything approximating a normal relationship with either of them.


	26. Here and there

**Here and there**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Jacob?" Bella asked through clenched teeth, a few minutes into the drive home. "You in control?"

"Yes, why?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Can you pull over?

"Here?" he asked, looking around at the definite middle of nowhere.

"Yes—please," she said.

When he did, she got out, taking a few steps away from the car, resting her hands against the rough bark of a tree, taking deep breaths. She still felt nauseated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she finally asked.

He took in a slow breath, letting it out just as slowly. "I didn't think that would be...fair," he said quietly "to you."

She turned sharply, facing him. "And telling Edward was?"

He snorted angrily at this. "I didn't, Bella. Not my fault you're hanging out with a mind reader."

 _True_ , she thought. She sat down on the ground, the wet seep of it creeping up the seat of her jeans. She swallowed, preparing for her next question. "Did you know?" she whispered, "before we…"

"God no," he said, shaking his head, "I'd never have done that if I'd known."

She nodded, processing this. "I'm sorry, Jacob," she said. "I shouldn't have called you."

He laughed, sitting down beside her "you apologizing for me getting some vamp action?"

"No," she said, looking at him. "You know what I mean."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I don't," his tone stubbornly pert and cheerful.

Bella closed her eyes, not ready to deal with this version of Jacob. Finally, she opened them again, and said, "are you really trying to tell me that you think what we did at Christmas was a good idea, Jake?"

He arched his eyebrows at her. "Do you regret it?"

She wanted to say yes, but knew it wasn't true. "No," she answered. "I don't. But you know how I feel, what I think. What I want you to have."

"I want you," he said softly, no trace of humour left.

"I want you to have someone who loves you Jacob. Totally. You deserve that."

"Lookin' right at it," he said, but stood, offering her his hand. "Come on, it's wet." He pulled her up. "What happened, tonight, anyway?" he asked.

She blushed angrily, and shook her head, not sure how to put it into words.

"Did he hurt you?" Jacob asked, his voice suddenly menacing.

"No," she said, "it was what—never mind," she said, thinking better of answering him.

They stood, leaning against the car, Bella pulling her jacket around herself more. Jacob considered moving closer, but then stopped himself. "Thank you," she said eventually, "for coming and getting me. I really should have called Charlie. I wasn't in my most," she sighed, "logical state of mind."

"You can always call me, Bella," he said, "I'll come."

This was precisely what worried her. He would. Even if it put him in danger. Or hurt him.

"Thank you, Jacob," she said. "I think, I should probably go home."

They'd driven the rest of the way in silence, both of them contemplating the events of the night, and its many revelations.

Bella only pulled her phone out to charge it right before bed, seeing the text from Edward: _Can we talk?_

 _Sure_ , she wrote back.

What she expected, was a phone call, not his startling presence when she returned from the bathroom.

Watching her jump, he apologized, adding, "You meant a phone call—to talk—didn't you?"

"Yes," she breathed out, still jittery, sitting on the desk chair. Edward settled silently on the rocker, listening to the slowing thump of her heart.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I have no excuse, Bella. I know I shouldn't have."

"Why did you then?" she asked.

"You know how I feel," he said, watching her.

"Yes, but that's not why."

"It's part of it," he said, his jaw clenched. "I'm jealous Bella. And angry too, with myself. I made a stupid decision, and it's cost me you."

Part of it she could understand, but not the jealousy. "What, exactly, are you jealous of?"

He laughed. "You really have to ask?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't know."

"Jacob," he said simply.

"Jacob? Why?" Her face was creased with confusion. "We're not together."

"You were, Bella." Edward said, "You left him. You don't see him as wronging you, but you do me."

"That's because you did," she said, not quite through clenched teeth, but almost.

"I don't deny it. But he has the benefit of your good opinion. And your trust—both things I very much covet."

She thought carefully before she said her next words. "You have more of it, than you did, but," and she sighed. "You...affect me...physically, and you know it, and it doesn't help when you try to use it against my better judgement."

"I am sorry," he said softly, again. "I won't do it again. I'll wait, for you to ask," he said. Looking around the room, he let his eyes rest on her small bag. "I'll understand if you want to drive home alone, or perhaps, with other company—Alice maybe?"

She shook her head, "it's fine," she said, "I think I can handle driving with you."

"Alright," he said standing, "good night."

She returned the words, and then watched him disappear, the flutter of the curtain telling her he was gone.


	27. Missing Persons

**Missing Persons**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Edward snatched her bag before she could reach it.

"Really?" She said lightly, "Worried I might fall over it and break something?"

"No," he said smiling, "common, gentlemanly courtesy."

She rolled her eyes, "and you try to blend in," she muttered. "Might as well wear a top hat and tails."

He grinned in response.

They were strolling along from the parkade, close to the residence, when Edward frowned, and turned to her. "Grace," he began, "is very upset," and frowned again, this time more deeply. "Her friend is missing—the one she goes to church with," he added. "Distraught." He stopped, and pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked.

"Calling Jasper. He's...quite attached, to her," he added, giving a small, worried, smile, as if he were apologizing.

Bella was surprised. She'd known they'd developed something of a friendship, but not the kind she would expect to call on for something so emotional, despite Jasper's gifts.

He couldn't have been far, because he met them a few minutes later, strolling from the south side of the campus, nodding at Bella and Edward.

Bella could see what Edward meant, hearing the sobs from the door. She felt awkward, opening it, knowing she would have to appear surprised.

"Grace?" she said, looking her roommate. Her face was blotchy and tear stained, and a pile of tissues was testament to the long-running tears.

"Bella!" she said, "You're back," she sniffed, "my friend Bree, she's missing," and then burst into a fresh bout of crying.

Bella slipped her arm around Grace, who hugged her back with a ferocious grip, like she was trying to hold herself up. Looking at Edward, and Jasper, Bella saw that the alarm on their faces was carefully concealed.

"Grace," Jasper said, "were you with Bree's family just now?" She nodded on Bella's shoulder, and Bella saw Jasper and Edward look meaningfully at each other. "Why don't we go for some tea, and let Bella unpack?"

Bella was always amazed at the influence Jasper wielded with Grace, not more than now, as she wiped her eyes, and accepted his arm, as they walked out of the room.

As soon as they were gone, Edward went to Grace's desk, flipping through her books and papers.

"Edward, what are you doing?" she asked, alarmed by his intrusion on her roommate's privacy.

"She's been around a vampire, Bella," he said, "do you have the Tanner's address?"

She shook her head, suddenly stilled, feeling a palor washing over her face.

He found Grace's address book, neatly tucked between her textbooks, flipped through it, and then returning everything precisely where it had been. "I'll be back soon, he said. Don't go anywhere, not without Alice or Jasper," he said sternly.

"Do I need to have an escort to pee, or visit the dining hall?" she asked, resenting the restriction.

"Bella," he said, turning towards her, taking her hand, his voice serious. "I don't think you've seen the news this week." He raised his eyebrows in query.

"No, why?" she said, shaking her head.

"Two other students have gone missing from campus in the last two weeks. Now Grace's friend. And there have been four murders in Seattle over the last three." Watching her, he was gratified to see the fear make her eyes widen. "I'm not asking you to be careful because I'm paranoid. I'm doing it because there is real danger. Please," he said, taking his other hand in his too, "be careful."

She nodded, alarmed.

"Alice will be close by," he said, "and Jasper also. I won't be long."

He was true to his word, and back within the hour. She had unpacked, and fiddled with things, not able to focus, and was grateful when he returned.

"Well?" she asked, not sure she was ready hear what he had found.

He nodded, "it was a vampire. The same one that left the note," he said softly, his eyebrows pinched together.

She sat down on her bed, "is this because of me?"

"No," he said, sitting beside her. "This is because of _me_."

The tears were not a surprise. She shook her head at him. "You know she's after me, Edward."

"She's trying to hurt me, because of what I did, Bella. This isn't your fault. It's mine."

He risked putting his arms around her. "You'll be safe, and Charlie too," he said.

"And Grace? And her friends? And the people around me?" she said, her voice cracking. "Will she go after them too?"

"I don't know," he said.

She sat, in his arms, lost in her thoughts. It had been one thing, to be in danger herself, but it was entirely something else to endanger the people around her. She wondered if she should go home, but the clenching fear of drawing harm to Charlie, made her worry more. Staying here though, there were so many. She could isolate herself, eschew her friends, but still, there would be people. People in her classes, people she met on the street—what if—?

"Don't," he said, watching her. "I know what you're thinking. You can't make yourself responsible for what she's doing Bella."

"It's not that," she said, "it's just...Ben, and now Grace's friend. And others—do I know them?"

"I don't think so," he said.

"But, what if it's Grace—next? Or someone else who lives here? Cathy, or—?"

He put his hand to her cheek. "You aren't responsible for what she does. You can't control it."

"No," she said, "but I could leave. Go somewhere where no one else is. Keep her from hurting other people."

"And spend your life, hiding, or waiting? No," he shook his head. "No, we'll find her Bella. We'll end this."

"And I'll just watch my friends disappear in the meantime?" she asked, horrified. "No."

"What about staying with us?" He asked. "If you want to be away from others? You can be close to campus, and we can keep you safe. You don't have to see anyone else if you don't want to, but you can still go to class, at least."

This seemed like a logical compromise. "But Grace?" she asked, "Will she be safe?"

"We can watch her too," Edward said.

"But you need to hunt, to have time, you can't spend all of it babysitting us—"

"Rose and Emmett can help," he reassured her.

"I'll need to explain to Grace...something, oh Lord, she's going to freak out. Thinking I'm moving in with you."

"Tell her you're moving in with Alice," he said, "trust me, she won't suspect a thing. She is very, very innocent," he smiled. "And you won't be moving in with me Bella. You need your space."

"Where will you—?" And then she realized that he didn't really need a space, to sleep really.

"I'll be fine," he said, "knowing that you are." Shrugging he added, "we have other places. Jasper and I can be roommates for a bit," he grinned, wondering how his brother would take this.

She considered all this, ruminating on the many implications. "Not yet," she said. "I need some time—for Grace. I also need to give them notice, here," she said.

"No," he said. "You don't. Keep your room here. If you want to come back, if things are...resolved, you should be free to live your life as you planned it," he said softly.

Her stomach lurched, knowing what he was saying. A life without him.

She didn't want a life without him.

She wanted, very much, a life _with_ him.

She said nothing, still thinking, still processing. _Give it time,_ she told herself. _Sleep on it. Wait._

Her body was responding most distinctively to its proximity to Edward's, and she stood, running her hands through her hair. The fresh wetness on her cheeks was a surprise, and she kept her back to him, wiping it away with her hands. To her annoyance, it replenished itself, and she repeated the gesture, until she felt a tissue pressed into her hand.

"You'll be OK, Bella," he said softly.

She shook her head. "It's not that. I know you'll keep me safe," she said.

Edward stood. "Do you want me to walk you to class tomorrow?" he asked, "overtly, that is?"

She choked out something that was part sob, and part laugh. "Yes, please," she managed.

It hurt, watching him leave, and she almost told him to stay, almost letting her feelings take control.

 _No_ , she told herself. _Give it time._

 _Give it time._


	28. Room mate(s)

**Room mate(s)**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Oh my god! I'm so excited! I've never had a college roommate before!" Alice squealed, when she'd arrived, her few possessions in tow.

Edward had given Alice a withering look, as he carried a box in, that spoke volumes.

"I know, I know," she said, "boundaries. Yes, I'll respect—some of them for sure."

Bella was not reassured by this.

"I have plans Bella, you're going to love this."

Managing to carry in at least one box, before Jasper and Edward got them all, Bella smiled. It _would_ be fun to be around Alice more.

 _Sometimes_ , she thought, after the fact.

"I do actually need to study, Alice, and sleep," she warned her.

"Oh, for sure," she chimed back, eyes up, clearly imagining the many possibilities she had been entertaining.

Bella had been surprised at just how easy it was to live with Alice. Her gift made it easy for her to predict when Bella needed space, and when she was ready to withstand what Alice considered 'fun.'

Edward and Jasper were frequent visitors—Jasper more so than Edward, but only that. If Jasper was there more, Bella never saw, or heard. She marvelled at his discretion.

By late February, her studies became much more challenging, and she cursed herself for the general studies she'd committed to for the first year. It allowed her a wider choice of programs in second year, but meant stretching herself academically.

"First year math is going to kill me," she grumbled, one evening, trying to rehearse the machinations of an equation, making it a thing of habit, rather than the elaborate mental lacework it was. She thought better of what she'd said though, looking up at the three people—vampires, she corrected herself, in the living room. They were reviewing, quietly, the events of the week, trying to make sense of their own complex problems.

"Nope," Jasper said, flipping through the newspaper, frowning at the news, "definitely going to be the math that kills you. Mostly because I'm not sure how to stop that."

"Can I see?" Edward asked, walking by, as casually as he could. He'd offered to help with her math earlier in the term, but she'd politely declined, needing to work it out herself. She was reconsidering her position though, struggling through understanding some of the concepts. _Maybe one of the learning centre tutors_ , she thought, but, looking at the clock, realized they'd be closed by the time she got there.

"Sure," she said, shifting the book over so he could see it without needing to be too close.

She still felt the same about him, but held herself back, waiting for...what, she wasn't sure. But still, waiting.

"Oh," he said, sitting down, "no wonder you're having trouble with it," and then explained, concretely and concisely, where the textbook had failed to, the underpinnings of the theory.

She sat back, relieved it wasn't her own obtuseness, and suddenly tired. It had been a long week, and she was glad for the weekend. She rubbed her temples, and let herself relax into the hands she felt making similar motions at her back.

"You know, I did fix your mother's air conditioning," he said softly.

"Right," she said. She'd completely forgotten about their deal. "If that offer is still open, I think I'd like to take you up on it."

"Good," he said, slightly stunned at how easy that had been, and he reached over to her laptop, typing one-handed, while still working with his other.

Glancing back to the living room, she realized they were alone.

"You can book those online?" she asked, watching his quick progress.

"Is there anything you can't?" he mumbled, fingers still flying over the keys.

Her eyebrows went up seeing the amount, and the number of sessions.

"Air conditioning technicians are expensive," he said, punching in the last few numbers, catching her expression.

"Sure," she said dryly, "if they plate everything in gold, yes."

He laughed slightly, but his voice fell. "I can't help but think I've been the cause of much of your stress, and I'm sorry for it," he said.

Her heart clenched, hearing this.

No, she found herself saying, he couldn't take that on himself. She didn't want him to hurt that way. The next thought was, _what are you waiting for?_

What indeed? And she took his hand, now on her shoulder, in her own, standing. "No," she said, standing, facing him, her voice breaking over the words, "you make it all worth enduring." She only let go of his hand to bring both her hands to his face, drawing it towards her own. He returned the gesture, and she had to remind herself to breath, when their lips met. It felt like a long time before he made them pause.

"I love you," she said. "And I want to be with you, if you still want me," she added, gripped by sudden uncertaintanty.

"Of course I do," he said, his face and voice full of emotion.

The embrace tightened, her cheeks slick with sudden tears, and they were moving slowly, he watching her steps for her. She felt his arm catch her on the steps into the sunken living room. He slipped her onto his lap on the couch, their hands free over each other once again.

They'd both waited with their own impatience, and Bella's was making itself know. She shifted herself, straddling his lap, her fingers slipping over the fine buttons of his shirt.

"No," he said softly, pulling her hands away, when her intentions became clear.

She tried to make light of it, smarting from the sting of what she told herself was a small rejection. "Afraid I'll faint? Overcome by your beauty?"

He chuckled, and kept kissing her, "No," he said, "I'm afraid I might cross my own lines."

"Lines were made for crossing," she countered, returning his kiss, his hands still twined with hers.

"Not the ones that were meant to keep you alive," he said.

She shook her head, not wanting to argue, but not wanting to back down. "I am not the same person you left, Edward, and yes, that is something I want to be part of our relationship. You are not going to kill me, or hurt me," she said, freeing her hands, and using them to hold his head as she kissed him, "so stop using that as an excuse."

He answered by pulling back from her, and picking up a small metal candle holder from the sofa table behind them. He pressed it into his palm, and then opened it, showing her the now compact black puck there, a perfect impression of his hand. "One slip, Bella, that's all it will take. No."

"And you've never made one, ever with me. Ever. You wouldn't be around me if you really thought this was the reason."

"You're right," he smiled, "you aren't the same person I left. She would stop arguing and just kiss me."

Bella laughed. "Don't assume I won't aim for both. There's another reason though. What is it?"

He sighed, and pulled her off of him, setting her down on the couch beside him. He took her hand, and kissed her fingers. "There is," he said. "Bella, in my own time, I would never have been alone with you, not like this. We might have sat together outside on a porch, in the daytime, but only with your father nearby. And I certainly wouldn't have kissed you—not until we were engaged, and even then, only maybe."

Bella had recoiled at the word engaged. "You expect us to be—"

"Married? Yes, before that happens. Absolutely."

Bella had opened her mouth in shock, and stood, pacing in surprise. "Marriage?" she said again.

He laughed, his face breaking into a grin. "You look so shocked! I feel like I'm discussing extortion!"

"That's because you are!" she said, exasperated.

He pulled her back into his arms, kissing her. "I want to tell the world that we're together, Bella. That I love you. That my heart is yours. That yours is mine."

"You can," she said, gasping as he brought his lips to her neck. "But we don't need to be married to do that."

"It's my price," he smiled, his kiss more daring than before, leaning her back against the cushions, his own body over hers.

She groaned. "You. Are. Such. A. Tease."

He chuckled, and backed off.

She kept her eyes closed, memorizing the touch that had just been there. When she opened them, he was holding out his hand. "Come here, my fast and forward woman," he grinned. She sat up reluctantly. "Are you done studying for the night?" he asked.

"I think so," she said, looking at her books, abandoned on the dining room table.

"Good, can we go celebrate? A late dinner? Somewhere where I can hold your hand and declare us both utterly unavailable? Preferably in front of your friend Cathy," he added, the

She laughed, but shook her head. "No," she said, "Not tonight. I want to keep you all to myself, preferably in my arms."

And so they did, the night a witness to the intimate reacquaintance of their whispered thoughts, and secret hopes.


	29. What rough beast

What rough beast

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Yeat's understatement, that 'mere anarchy is loosed upon the world' was his condemnation of the war, and, might I say, be a fitting sentiment for what we've encountered here lately," the professor said, to a nervous titter of half-swallowed laughter, and uncomfortable squirminess.

Bella's own shaking silence was lost amongst the louder uncertainty of her peers.

The disappearances had only grown, and the discovery of bodies, mostly burnt, or grotesquely mutilated, had made for a conservative culture on campus. Students walked in pairs to classes, night or day, and the parties that had dotted the first semester had vanished in the second.

Edward had abandoned all pretense of his own classes, sitting in on her lectures where his presence was unnoticed, or tolerated by the more observant professors, but her classes were large, and such creatures were rare.

Jasper was restless. His presence was edgy, and Bella could practically palpate his mood, so substantial were the feelings he radiated.

They all felt it, and it was only late at night, one cool Wednesday, that Bella asked Edward. "Why is Jasper so upset about all of this?"

She felt the slightest stiffening in Edward's arm, and turned to him, shrewdly examining his impassive face. "What is it?" she asked, more assertive.

Edward paused, considering his answer. "Jasper," he began, "had a very different...upbringing, from the rest of us."

"And?" Bella asked, only intrigued by this vague answer.

Edward said nothing else yet, still trying to wrangle his way out of worrying her with what she was asking, as well as trying to sift through what Jasper had told him, as opposed to what he'd heard in his mind.

"I'll just go ask Alice then," she said, moving to stand. Two very cold hands pulled her back.

"I will explain," he said, "but, just," he sighed, "do you trust me? Do you trust us? To keep you safe?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation.

He nodded, accepting this. "Jasper's early years were spent managing armies of vampires. Newborn armies," he said, and continued his explanation. By the time he finished, Bella was paler than usual, trying to still the trembling that wanted to grip her.

"An army?"

Edward shook his head. "Not here, no, but several newborns, yes."

"What would the difference be?" she asked.

"Numbers, and someone to coordinate them," he said, "and we've not had a whiff of that. Just...the chaos of untrained vampires, run amok." He shook his head. "We'll need to do something, soon, if it doesn't get better, before the Volturi intervene. I'm surprised they haven't already."

This time Bella allowed the shudder out of her shoulders. He'd explained, in too casual detail, what the Volturi were, and what they did, and she couldn't keep enough space between herself and them, mentally, or otherwise. "What rough beast," she muttered under her breath.

"You're safe, Bella. You'll be fine. Even if you quote Yeats at me," he smiled.

She'd accepted, with reluctant trust, this belief, but her worry lurked, and rose, tendrils ready to insert themselves in the tender places of her mind, at the slightest provocation. She wasn't surprised by the repeated nightmares about red-eyed monsters crawling out of cradles.

It was something of a relief then, when she answered a knock at the door a few days later, and found Jacob Black standing there.

"Jake!" she said, before succumbing to his enthusiastic hug.

She could imagine Edward's teeth grinding together, even if she couldn't hear them, behind her though, as the embrace lasted beyond what it should. She pushed, rather than pulled herself away, gently.

"So," he said, "shackin' up with vampires, huh?" and waved casually at Alice, who had joined Edward at the door.

She replied with a tart, "You know Bella, the lease does say no pets. That includes dogs."

"Sure Alice. The lease. You mean, for the house you own?" Bella replied, just as pertly.

This earned a chuckle from Edward, and Jacob's shoulders released their tension just a bit.

Edward spoke next, gesturing that Jacob should come in. "You know, we do have phones. Sam could have called."

Bella looked at Jacob, walking beside him to the couch. He half smiled at her. "Can't blame me for wanting to deliver the message in person. I wanted to see you," he added more quietly.

"What's the message?" she asked, looking at Edward, and then back to Jacob.

Jacob sighed, preparing to answer, but Edward beat him to it. "They've caught the scent of a vampire at your Dad's. Inside the house."

"What!" She half shrieked, "I thought you were watching him?"

"They are," Edward said, "but not the house, not when he isn't there."

"Oh," she said, adding "of course," shaking her head.

"It looks like they took things," Edward continued. "Your things."

"How would you know—?" Bella began.

Edward lifted his eyebrows at Jacob to answer this one.

"You done?" he asked, an uncharacteristically nasty tint to his voice. "Anything else you'd care to know?"

"If you don't yell them at me," Edward clenched out, "I won't be able to hear them."

"Well I can't help it, can I? That I think," Jacob snarled.

They were both standing at this point, and Bella positioned herself between them. Her own teeth were clenched. "Calm. Down." she told them both. "Or I'll put both of you outside."

They both looked at her incredulously.

"And Alice will help me," she added.

When they both sat down again, facing each other, she took a seat perpendicular to them, making them an awkward triangle around the coffee table. "How did you know, Jacob? That they took things?"

"Um," he began, "when I'm on patrol, I sometimes check your room," he said awkwardly.

Edward snorted. "Snoop, more like," he muttered.

"Edward," Bella said, her voice full of warning. "Why would they take my things?" she asked, looking between them. "And what did they take?" she asked, her brow furrowed, wondering what she'd left that would be worth taking.

"Clothes, a pillow," Jacob said, shrugging.

"Things with your scent," Edward said. He looked at Jacob meaningfully.

The implications of this statement trickled down through Bella's natural defenses, and she felt very, very cold, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You'll be fine," Edward said. "No one will hurt you."

She nodded, but looked at Jacob. "Was there more? That you came to tell us?"

Jacob's mouth twisted to the side as he looked at Edward. "We wanted to know if you were going to get a handle on what's going on here, before it spreads," he said. "Or if you need help."

"Help?" Edward laughed, "from a pack of dogs? In the middle of the city?" He asked, adding snidely, "I'm sure that won't draw any unwanted attention at all."

"Well you certainly haven't dealt with it yet," Jacob snapped back.

"We'll deal with it in our own time," Edward said, standing, and moving away to the window.

"Why not now?" Jacob said.

He hated to admit it, but they were stretched thin, between everyone they needed to watch. "We have...responsibilities here. That prevent us from taking on an assault at this point."

"Then let us help," Jacob said, his voice suddenly calmer, taken aback by this deprecating honesty.

Bella had stood too, nervous that they weren't sitting, worried by the too energetic movement of Jacob's hands. He was worked up, and it wasn't just over the business at hand.

Edward moved back towards her, taking her hand in his. "No," he said, speaking to another silent thought, "nothing will happen to her. I'll keep her safe."

Jacob was staring at their hands, linked together. His upper lip fought to keep from curling into a possessive snarl. He inhaled sharply instead. "Right," he said. "That worked so well last time," remembering her broken leg, and then her broken heart.

Edward winced, seeing what he remembered.

"Ugly, isn't it?" Jacob said. "What you protecting her looks like. Maybe you'll accept our offer this time." He turned, not wanting to hear more of Edward, and walked to the door. "Bye Bella," he said softly, and not waiting for a reply, opened it and left.

The sudden lump at her throat was attributable to so many things, swirling in the soup of her mind. She breathed in, and out, processing what she'd heard.

Jacob's own feelings were a heady mix to handle as he walked to the outer, wooded reaches of the campus. That she had chosen him, him, of all creatures, who had hurt her so much, festered underneath his love for her. It'd taken all his self-control to not lash out at him, watching him touch her.

He threw his malice into his run, and settled himself into the long journey back to Forks.

* * *

Author's note: Yeat's poem, "The Second Coming," always reminds me of the contrast of expectations that swirl around the battle in Eclipse. People expect such resolution from it, but in the end, it only brings something worse: The Volturi. If you've read the poem, there are some nice dark parallels there.


	30. A weekend away

**A Weekend Away**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

* * *

Edward didn't openly question Bella's choice of workspace, but wondered silently instead at the messy pile of books, the ancient plywood tables, cheaply glazed, well engraved with the initials of former inhabitants. The fluorescent lights of the library's basement made them both look vaguely green.

The space did have the virtue of being largely uninhabited, but held the faint reek too, of the unhoused and unwashed, who lingered here in more inclement weather, which was often, in the wet of most coastal seasons.

He normally busied himself with reading what she pulled from the shelves, adding where he could, without cheating her of the opportunity of self-discovery, small tidbits and clarifications where her own memory failed. He was musing over an anthology of West coast poetry, trying not to snort at what passed for verse these days.

"Your silent condemnation is so loud, I can hear it," she said, watching the play of feeling across his face.

He smiled at her, not looking up from the book he was reading. "You know me well."

"You can always find another book to read," she said, still writing.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, catching her eye.

She considered this. "No," she finally said, frowning at her paper.

He leaned over the table, looking sideways at her notes. "You're almost done," he said, surprised at the speed her progress.

Bella arched her eyebrows at him.

"Well," he said a little defensively, "you are. Of course," he added coyly, "If it makes you feel better, I could tell you that you still have hours of work ahead of you."

She smiled, but kept writing, trying to manage the last points of her conclusion.

"There," she said, the final sentence written. "I'm done, for now, anyway."

"Good," he said, snapping the book shut. "Because I have an indecent proposal for you."

Her eyebrows went up, this time in intrigue. "Indecent?"

"Not really," he smiled, "but I wanted to ask if you'd like to go away for the weekend."

"Just us?"

"Mm-hmm," he said, taking her hand, playing with her fingers.

"That sounds like something very un-you," Bella said, lost in his touch, trying to keep her thoughts logical.

"Ready to go?" he asked, wanting to move the conversation outside.

She nodded, and he grabbed her books, before she could. They walked a short distance outside the building, both luxuriating in the fresher air, she taking in the scents of trees heavy with blossoms, he scenting for more exotic, and dangerous things. All clear.

He put her books down on a bench by the main fountain, under the tepid shade of a blossom-heavy tree. It was twilight, and the sky had cleared, a rarity, even for spring. There were purple and pink shades meeting the darker hues of black and blue above them, the sunset almost faded into night.

"You know I love you," he said softly, and she looked at him in surprise.

"Of course," she murmured. "And I love you."

"Good," he said, leaning over to kiss her, "because I want that to be clear before I ask you something else."

She said nothing, but nodded.

And he asked, and she answered, and their plans unfolded.


	31. You can't get pregnant

**You can't get pregnant**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

* * *

It was dark by the time they arrived, the house lit by floodlights. It was a elegant fortress of cedar and glass, shining up along the lines of the forest around it.

"Esme designed it," Edward said, seeing her admire it.

"Really?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," he answered, turning off the car. "Ready for the grand tour?" His eyebrows were raised expectantly.

"Yes," she said, "of the hot tub."

"OK," he smiled, and grabbed their bags.

It was different, coming back, seeing it at night. It was beautiful. The clean lines were delicate amidst the growth around it.

He took her to a different room this time, this one larger. The bed was a lofty whiteness in a whiter room, the pale pine of its frame merely a suggestion of colour. A rich carpet was plush under her feet, its vibrant whorls of colour absorbing her eyes.

"Need a hand with your dress?" he asked, one eyebrow up inquiringly.

"Yes," she smiled, "please," and turned her back to him.

Very slowly, he reached up caught the zipper pull, his other hand holding the fabric of the dress taught, keeping the tension even. When he reached just below her mid-back, he stopped, most reluctantly, asking, "Can you reach?"

"Yeah, thanks," she nodded.

Not wanting to leave, but knowing she needed the space, he tilted his head to the west, "hot tub's just over there—I'll wait for you."

The soft click of the door letting her know she was alone, she sat, pulling apart of the moments of the day, fingering the heavy cream of the dress, wondering if she would wear it again. She'd been surprised to find it hanging in her room this morning, a note pinned to it: _Maybe for this afternoon? Edward_. There were simple black flats, and a long matching duster to go with it. Elegant, but casual. Nothing that would draw attention to them.

Just a young couple on a date.

She sighed, and turned her attention to her bag. She'd packed the night before, politely declining Alice's offer to do so for her. Zipping it open, there was a small card, neatly perched on top of an unfamiliar pile of clothes. It read, "Trust me. Love, Alice."

Alice had, to Bella's horror, unpacked, and repacked her bag, all with items of her own, distinct choosing.

Her swimsuit had shrunk into a bikini, a construction of strings and triangles that clung precariously to their allotted spaces. She forced a deep breath into her lungs before putting it on. It did look good, she admitted, but still made several anxious passes in front of the mirror before walking as calmly as she could to the front deck.

Edward's clothing sat in a casual pile, just inside the sliding glass door.

Her brain was thinking of a lot of things. Most of them were not cogent.

Most of them were: _Oh_.

She spared a fleetingly kind thought for Alice, and peeking around the corner, for the thick layer of bubbles obscuring the top of the hot tub.

"Got lost?" he called, turning to face her, his hand open towards her.

She smiled back, feeling her eyes crinkle at the sides. "No," she said, "just realizing the depth of Alice's treachery."

He laughed, "I told her not to."

"And I'm sure you've found that method very effective before," she said, shaking her head, as she stepped into the hot tub.

He looked softly at her, his words an afterthought. "She means well," he said.

She sat, neatly beside him, not quite touching, taking in the satisfying blackness of the night, the distant city lights a distant constellation over the stretch of water. The moon was hung heavy, and low, the wrinkled wedge of its light fluttering over the sound.

It was cool enough in the spring pacific evening, to make the water a hot luxury.

Emboldened by the cover of the bubbles, Bella slid herself closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm. He was surprisingly hot, and she turned her head, "how are you so...warm?" she asked, "not that I'm complaining."

"I can absorb heat, I just can't produce it," he said, moving his head back and forth at her shoulder, letting his breath follow the path of his lips at this tender curve.

Her lungs were barely moving.

"Breathe, Bella," he whispered, smiling, and she did.

It seemed a pity to waste so much breath on talking, so she turned to face him, and kissed him instead.

She could feel him joining her in the ardor of their touch, his hands loose over her sides, and hers at his hips. Both sets explored new grips in fresh locations, the equalization of their temperatures a pleasurable rarity.

Bella slipped one leg over his, straddling him. Edward's voice caught in his throat, a glottal sound half birthed into a moan.

She'd never been so close to him. Certainly had never felt him so intimately pressed to herself. She couldn't help but blush between their kisses at the familiarity.

She felt silly.

She'd done this before.

But it felt new, and the excitement was caught between them both.

With one tentative hand, he pulled the string that secured the top of her bikini, and it slid away under the water's coaxing tug, and the friction of their bodies. So did the lower half, strings tugged at more confidently by Bella's own fingers.

"Not here," he murmured, and picked her up, draping her in a towel as he carried her back to their room.

 _Ours_ , she thought. So strange.

It had felt warm before, but now, it was pleasant, laying beside his body, rapidly cooling. The bed was warm too, she realized, carrying its own heat.

"Wait," she said, as his hands slid over her midsection, "I need to get something," and reached into her bag, still on the side of the bed.

Edward's eyebrows were stretched up in astonishment. "Bella," he said, trying for his most respectful tone, "you can't get pregnant," he cleared his throat, "at least, not with me."

She laughed.

His eyebrows were still up in surprise, watching her curl over with hilarity. "Alright," he said, "I'll bite, what's so funny?"

This elicited more laughter.

"You know, if I was human, I think might start to feel a bit self-conscious," he said, this time with a hint of reproach.

"I'm sorry," she said, through her tears, "It's just, oh, that was the _exact_ line from a poem we read in class the other day. And it was funny. And sad..." and she sighed, trying to explain this.

"Do share," he said, running his finger up from her hip to her ribs, kissing her hand as she giggled and twitched from the sensation.

"OK!" she squealed, when he went to repeat this gesture on her other side.

He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes, and then used his lips to reproduce the work of his fingers. "I'm listening," he said.

"It's called, 'Getting Pregnant'," she said, taking in a sharp breath when he reached her breast, her recitation frozen at her lips, and in her mind.

"Mm-hmm," he said, backing away down to her navel.

"You can't get pregnant," she said, finally able to concentrate, "if it's your first time."

"Not true," he said, continuing to trace the invisible lines of her flesh.

"You can't get pregnant," she whispered, "if you do it standing up."

"This is terrible advice," he said, "but I'm listening," and then kissed her hip, kneading the tight muscles with his hands.

She had found her own rhythm, though, and continued on:

"You can't get pregnant

If it's your first time.

You can't get pregnant

if you do it standing up,

if you don't French kiss,"

"Uh oh," he said, demonstrating a very French kiss, but returned his attention to her neck. "Don't let me interrupt you," he added, a glimmer in his eyes. Then he tickled her, eliciting a vibrant squeal.

She soldiered on through her giggles:

"if you pretend

you won't let him

but just can't stop...

if he keeps his socks on,"

She had to stop again, as he tickled her toes with his very bare ones.

"if he's captain of the football team,

if he says he loves you,"

"Oh good," he said, "because I do love you, very much," and resumed his trail of kisses, adding, "breath," when he felt her go still with his attention.

"if he comes quickly,

if you don't come at all,

if it's only your third time.

You can't get pregnant

if he tells you

you won't."

"Is that a not so subtle message?" he asked. "That I'm captain of the football team?" Then he grinned, and picked up the condom she still held between her fingers. "Do you want me to do this, or you?"

He wasn't at all convinced he needed it, but she was. Reason enough.

She surprised him by taking it back, and deftly applying it. He was careful not to touch her while she did this, so shocked by the sensation of her fingers.

Still so shocked that they were doing this.

And excited, too.

"You're so beautiful," he said, looking at her, his own heart aching.

She blushed.

"You are," he said, and leaned down, kissing her.

Her hands were adamant, pulling him down, or rather, more effectively pulling her up. He reversed their positions, slipping her onto his midsection.

The heat of her was exquisite.

Her blush returned, and she shook her head.

He grinned. "For someone who wants to have sex with me, you seem remarkably shy. Are you sure you want to?" he asked, but helped her slide off of him.

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "I think I showed my commitment earlier today," she said.

"Don't leave me out of that part of the equation," he said, smiling. "Mrs. Cullen," and then he grinned even more widely.

She grimaced, but good naturedly.

"We're in private," he reassured her, silencing all her thoughts with a well placed kiss. "I promised to tell no one. And I won't."

She giggled.

"Still thinking about that poor clerk?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted.

The woman had been stunned, really. Almost speechless, seeing Edward. She hadn't even remembered to check his ID. He'd had to remind her. Twice. Bella had hissed a quiet "why does it matter?" to him, nervous and anxious, wanting the whole business done with quickly. "Because it makes it legal," he'd whispered back. "And that we belong to each other, matters very much, to me."

Edward's face lost all its playfulness at this point. "Bella," he said, "I promised we would try this, but if I hurt you, you must tell me, I can't—" and here he remembered what Carlisle had seen, "I can't hurt you."

She shook her head. "You won't, so stop thinking it. Stop _saying_ it."

Her gasp, at feeling him, finally, startled him, and he stopped, immediately.

She had arched her head back, eyes closed, and lifted it up, looking at him, shaking it. "Consider sounds like that a good thing," she said, clearly exasperated that he'd stopped. "I," and she exhaled sharply as he did something provocative with his hands, "promise to tell you," breathing in suddenly, "if it hurts."

"Is it a terrible thing that I like that I can do that to you?" he asked.

"No," she barely managed, "but it is if you insist on stopping like this."

He smiled and kissed her, and let them be fully joined.

He kept his hands on the bed, away from her, trying to absorb the fresh sensations that were dislocating his body from his mind.

She had no such trepidation, and clung to him, a veritable sea star, a long sound coming from the base of her throat. He stopped when she twitched at the end of it.

"What is it?" he asked, still so unsure of himself, frightened of hurting her.

She blushed, and shook her head.

He moved off of her, and she moaned in displeasure, "no—" she said, her hand useless to keep him in place.

"What?" he said again.

"Some questions are just not fair, Edward." She was angry, the blush a mottled blotchiness.

"We promised to be honest with each other. What is it?"

She had, and she clenched her teeth, shaking her head, looking away, embarrassed. "It's...different."

 _Oh_ , he cringed internally. He could see why she didn't want to talk about it.

He put his head down on her chest, "sorry," he said, and kissed her, waiting for her to initiate their contact again. She pulled at his arms, the crook of her knees, a distinct invitation.

He marvelled at the way their bodies came together. He'd worried, so much, at the frailty, of first her human self, and then, her smallness, what seemed the fragile web of her slight frame. Now he found himself letting go of the worry, allowing her comfort to be his own. Her desire to move him.

He was surprised when she told him to slow down, and did, immediately, listening to the movement of her hands, letting them set the metronome of their dance.

The condom, he realized, was helping, dulling enough of the sensation to not overwhelm him, and he carefully, so tentatively, let his hands return to her, caressing her cheek, running down her back. She was her own globe, the spaces of it hotter as they moved to the equator of her flesh, drawn by sweetness of her blood.

He wondered if he would smell of her come morning. He hoped so, and let the wash of Freesia and Lilac be the memory of their togetherness.

He watched her sleep after, she kicking off the covers, overly warm on the electric blanket on the bed. He toyed with the idea of turning it off, but changed his mind when she curled into him. The rhythm of her breath was a soft push against his own chest.

She began to stir well into the morning, and he breathed his own sigh of relief. She hadn't slept well, not regularly, for weeks, plagued by nightmares and worries, his reassurances useless against the worst of her imagination. Useless against the steadily mounting list of missing and dead.

"Morning," he whispered, when he could hear her eyes open, still nestled against her back.

She made a noise something like "hmmm," and then turned to face him.

He'd checked, whenever she shifted in the night, for any sign of damage, not worried, so much as just letting his anxiety find an outlet. There had been nothing, but seeing her turn, a fresh wave of anxiety clutched his midsection. He was surprised by the relief when he saw nothing.

"This is really nice," she murmured, "but I need to go be human for a few minutes."

He smiled. "Can I make you breakfast?"

"Wow," she said, "and he makes me breakfast the morning after," with a coy arch of her eyebrows.

"Every morning, if you'll let me," he said, handing her a robe.

As she stood, this was when he finally saw.

His sharp intake of breath startled, and stopped her.

"What?" she asked, suddenly terrified, frozen, imagining real monsters ready to jump out from behind the curtains.

He swallowed, not sure he could form the words.

"You, you're...Bella, look at yourself," he managed.

She looked down, automatically, and then looked at him again, confused. Utterly. "What am I missing?"

"Can't you see?"

He stood, and touched lightly, the very bruised, and swollen flesh.

She raised her eyebrows at him, the disbelief about to float off her face. She felt like she was explaining something to a two-year old. "Edward," she began, "I'm fine."

He was livid. She was _fine_? He had hurt her, and she was _fine_?! He said as much.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me how I feel?" she asked. "Because if that's the way you expect marriage to work, we may as well head back down to city hall and get it annulled."

It was his turn to be shocked. She might as well have slapped him, the words stung so much.

"You—?"

"No," she said. "I just need you to get your head out of your ass. I'm fine. And if you can't respect that, then we're going to have a serious problem." She paused, letting some of the angry blood leave her face.

Edward's anger was morphing quickly into a guilty realization that she was right.

"You're right," he said quickly, softly, "and I'm sorry, please forgive me."

"I love you," she answered him, just as quickly, accepting the reach of his arms.

"Alright," he said, "breakfast for the human."

She slipped into the bathroom, and he went to the kitchen, exploring the possibilities the fridge provided. By the time she'd arrived, showered, but still only wearing a robe, he noticed, he had bacon sizzling in the pan, toast and eggs ready, and a glass of very freshly squeezed orange juice on the bar. Several corpses of oranges, their innards distended, lay along the counter.

"Are you expecting someone else?" she asked, looking at what he'd prepared.

"No," he smiled, "but I suspect you have athletic plans for the weekend," he said, arching an eyebrow at the robe.

She sighed dramatically, and then said, in as coy a voice as she could manage, "I could always eat later...it's hard to work out on a big breakfast

"No way," Edward said, arms folded, but smiled as she giggled, and sat down to eat.

"So," she asked, between bites, "why build here?" gesturing to the house, and the water.

"It's quiet. No other people around. The stray voice wanders across my mind from a boater or two, but it's very private. We can still make it into town quickly though."

"Not by car," she said, looking at the view, remembering the drive in.

"No, not by car," he said, grinning, sitting across from her, resting on his arms.

"So," she said, truly sighing now, "I really should give my notice at the residence. I don't think Grace would appreciate us both moving back in."

Edward smiled. "Do you want to stay at the house near campus? We can always find something different, if you like."

She felt her eyebrows go up at this, but grinned along with them. "You are ridiculous. You change residences like most people change their clothes."

He shrugged. "It's just a house. It takes someone special to make it a home. I'd like a...home, with you." She'd mostly finished eating, and he reached across the table to take her hand.

"That's going to be an interesting conversation with Charlie. Explaining why we're shacking up together," she said, blushing already.

"But we're not," Edward countered, "and you could always just tell him the truth," he added, leaning back, smirking just a little, watching her squirm at this thought. "Why you prefer to have him think we're living in sin, rather than telling him we're married, I have no idea."

"If you'd had my upbringing, you would. Trust me. Marriage was a byword, right next door to teenage pregnancy," and she shook her head.

"I think you're underestimating their opinion of you Bella." She stood, going to clear her plate, but he had it out of her hands, she staring at her empty fingers, and chuckling. She shook her head, clearing it. She didn't think she'd ever get used to his speed.

Perhaps she would, if he let her have his speed too.

But no, he'd been so clear on that front.

Never. Not while she had choices.

He had come back, sliding his arms around her. "Can I give you a tour of the rest of the house?" he asked.

"Sure," she murmured, into his lips.

But they didn't make it far, and instead, explored the many nuances of the plush living room rug.

Later, dressed and having actually explored the remainder of the house, Edward asked "where's your camera?"

"In my bag," she yawned, stretched out with him on the couch. "Why?"

"I want to take a few pictures, and print the ones from yesterday," he said.

"Evidence," she said, shaking her head.

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose."

She hadn't understood why he'd insisted, and was nervous that they _had_ taken pictures. What if someone found them? Wasn't it enough that they were married?

He'd pulled her aside at the registrar's desk, saying softly, "I want you to have the choice to have pictures. No, no, wait—", he'd said, seeing her about to interrupt, "You might feel differently in time." She had become positively suspicious when he produced a small bouquet of blue Freesia. When he whispered in her ear though, "they remind me of you," and smiled, kissing her, she'd relaxed, holding them.

"You aren't going to pull any rabbits out of anything, are you?"

"Oh," he said, looking disappointed, "no rabbits?" Then they'd laughed, drawing smiles from the people waiting for far more mundane paperwork. One had kindly taken their picture, Bella holding up her finger to lips, a dramatic "shh!" on them.

It was sweet though, to see it, Edward looking at her, holding her hand, she trying to keep this secret.

"I'm glad you had someone take it," she said, "but now we're going to go hide it, OK?"

He laughed, but said, "alright, we'll put it with the marriage certificate, in my safe deposit box."

She nodded, relieved. No one would happen upon it there.

The weekend featured little else beyond the activities they'd already explored, and it was with heavy reluctance that Bella watched the house disappear in the rear view mirror.

"We can go back anytime," he said softly.

She smiled, but shook her head. "Not really," she said, "too much to do at school. Maybe after term," she added.

"Anytime," he said, smiling. "Mrs. Cullen."

"Get it out of your system now," she mumbled.

"I can whisper it to you in bed," he added, leaning over to kiss her.

"As long as no one hears," she said, warningly. This brought her to a question she'd nursed over their few days away. "Edward," she began, "will Alice know?" She didn't need to ask about what.

"I asked her to avoid looking at our choices," he said, "but the answer is probably. I asked her to respect your privacy for anything she did see."

"So," Bella said, "she'll pretend not to know?"

"Something like that," he smiled.

The drive was long enough to relax into, and they were both lighter in their moods when they drove onto the campus. Edward's face fell though, as they approached the house.

"Bella," he said carefully, "I need you to wait in the car?"

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

The answer became apparent, when a chair came flying out of the living room window. Bella could now hear Jasper's voice, and Alice's too.

"Stay here," Edward said, getting out of the car.

Bella ignored him.

"It's not your fault!" Alice was saying.

"How can you say that?" Jasper retorted, kicking another chair into splinters.

"JASPER!" Edward called, gathering his attention, and making him stiffen defensively. "Enough!"

Jasper's disposition shifted immediately, seeing Bella, and he sat, defeated, morose, and guilt-ridden. When he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. "Grace's missing, Bella, and I don't know where she's gone. I only know that it's with a vampire."


	32. Spring

**Spring**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Putting up posters, asking friends, phoning her family, giving any information you can to the police. It'll help," Charlie said, not sounding convinced himself.

He was half of a mind that the girl had taken the brutality in the city as a cover for running away from the worse kind that waited for her at home. He'd probed gently, asking questions that softly suggested this, but Bella had shaken her head, saying "no."

"You still got that bear spray I gave you?" he said, "the fresh can, from reading break?"

"Yeah, Dad, I've got it," she mumbled, knowing just how useless it was against what was making people disappear.

"Good," he said. "You're not going out alone, right?"

"No," she sighed, "I've always got someone with me."

Charlie knew that was sparse code for Edward. He wasn't so sure about the help the boy offered. He seemed skinny to him, and pale. Not enough time outdoors, he mused. Needed to do something beyond bookwork. This made him think of Bella's other, less grisly news.

"You know when your internship starts?" he asked, trying to move her to happier topics.

"Oh," she said, "Right. Beginning of May."

"That'll be interesting," he said, "working with the Forest Service. What're you doing for them, anyway?"

"There's a group of us. We're working on a number of research projects with them. Sociological, geographical, forestry stuff," she said with more enthusiasm.

"It'll be great to have you home," he said.

Edward looked up from his book, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Right.

"Actually," Bella said, clearing her throat. "I'm not moving back home for the summer," she said.

"Oh," he said, trying not to sound disappointed. "Where are you staying then?"

"Well," she said, "I've really enjoyed having Alice as a roommate, so we're getting a place together. With Jasper...and Edward," she added, biting her lip.

"Oh."

This time, the word held more meaning than she'd hoped for.

She could hear him take a breath in, and then let it out. "That's...good," he managed. "You're growing up. Can't expect you to live at home forever." It was said in a gruff voice, and Bella felt a pang at this. She knew this had to happen at some point, she just didn't expect him to be quite so disappointed.

"Dad," she said, "you OK with this? I mean, I'm still going to see you and everything—"

"No, no, don't apologise," he said, recovering himself, "I'm happy for you. You've...made your choice, with Edward. I get it. He's—" He thought better of finishing the statement, and concluded with, "I love you. You know that. You've always got a place here if you need it."

"Thank you Dad, love you. Talk soon, 'K?"

She squished her eyes shut and breathed out slowly when she hung up the phone.

Edward's arms were around her. "Good work," he said. "Now you just need to fess up to being married," he smiled.

She considered elbowing him for his poor choice of humour, but decided against the bruise it would cost her.

"You know," she said, her voice full of worry, "that this has nothing to do with you? And everything to do with my parents' well earned prejudices against marriage, right?"

"I do," he said, kissing her. "But I think you're making this harder on yourself than you need to. Wouldn't you like to be able to tell your family? Your friends?"

"Yes," she said, sighing, just a little in exasperation. "It's just, I can't tell anyone until we tell my parents, and they will utterly freak out at this point. I'm sure, if we asked Alice, that she would confirm this."

"But you won't ask her until your parents know, so it's a bit of a moot point," he smiled. "I'm happy. We're married. The world can find out later."

There were other things he wanted very much to do too, at that moment, but the worry she emanated was thick all over her. Even her smell became more musky with it.

Jasper was worse. He stayed away much of the time, searching, watching, looking—ridden by guilt and angst and worry. He felt utterly responsible for Grace's disappearance. He'd left her alone for minutes, returning to find the alarming scent, its trail clear, then disappearing into the water.

They'd scoured her personal contacts, following leads for days, and then weeks, all to no avail. Whoever had taken her had covered their tracks well.

Bella hunkered down in her studies, awash in review and term papers. Her focus was broken by the news of fresh deaths and disappearances, and the traces of worry that flittered across Alice and Edward's careful faces.

Early May seemed like a distinct impossibility, when the term was finally said and done.

Edward's playful sweep caught her off guard, as he whisked her over the threshold of their new home.

"Wait," she said, "where are Jasper and Alice?"

"They're at our other house," Edward said. "Why, were you expecting them here, too?"

"Well, not really, I guess," Bella said, "but Charlie will expect them to be here...if he visits," she frowned, wondering about what she'd told him.

"And they will be, if he decides to visit," Edward explained. "Or, anytime you'd like them here."

She smiled, and looked around the house. It was, not surprisingly, furnished, but simply so—cozily even—in an easy understatement that looked well lived in.

There was a playful arch over the front gate, made in willow work, and a cut-log fence bounding the property. The trees ran close from the woods, giving them privacy. If she listened carefully, she could hear the very distant hush of the river.

"This is beautiful," she said, looking around. "It feels like...home."

"That's because it is. Ours, anyway," he added. "Come on, let me show you around."

It was small, but well used in space. Two attic rooms held the bare necessities of bedrooms, with two larger ones off the main floor. Bella's favourite discovery, nestled into the corner of a large deck, was a hot tub.

"A small, but important addition," Edward said, looking at her.

"You know me well," she smiled back at him.

Their moment was interrupted by Edward pulling back. "First guests," he said, and he tugged her towards the door, where Esme and Carlisle waited, eager hugs ready.

"Do you like it?" Esme asked. "I didn't change much, but I wanted a few things just for you," she said.

"You did this?" Bella asked, looking around.

"Of course! You needed a space to be yourselves," she smiled. "We're so happy for you," and kissed her on the cheek.

Bella looked at Edward with barely concealed alarm, but he shook his head.

They didn't know, and she let her arms relax around Esme.

What Carlisle and Esme did know well enough was how to read the mood in the room, and they didn't stay long, inviting Bella and Edward to join the rest of the family for dinner, "or something," as Esme had put it, the elegant wave of her hand holding many possibilities.

Their few things unpacked and away, they settled into a quiet evening, and the one activity that entertained them most.


	33. Just a BBQ

**Just a BBQ**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

As they lingered over their last moments together in bed, Bella took Edward's hand. "OK," she started, "I get the need for you to be nearby and everything when I'm at work, or one of you, but I just want to make sure we're clear on what requires intervention, and what doesn't. Alright?"

"I'm listening," Edward said, frowning slightly. He had an idea of where this was going.

"I welcome you to intervene in anything life-threatening, or life-altering," she said, choosing her words carefully, "but," and she looked at him through narrowed eyelids. "That's it. Minor accidents, embarrassment, humiliating incidents. These are all part of life, and don't require anyone's actions but my own." She tapped her finger at his chest, emphasizing her point.

"Life-altering is fairly broad," he said, through equally narrowed eyes.

"A few broken bones will not kill me," she said.

"But the opportunistic infection that could come with them, might," he countered.

"Well," she said, "there's a simple solution for that, isn't there?"

"Antibiotics aren't always effective," he said.

She smiled smugly. "I wasn't referring to those."

He sighed, frowning deeper.

"Trust me," she laughed, "I have no plans on acquiring any broken bones, or any other injuries. Just...try to keep everything in perspective," she said.

He made a sound that was suspiciously like "harumph," but made no further arguments. Watching her get up and get ready, he thought he might as well make himself useful, and went to the kitchen, assembling her lunch.

She stopped, walking in, seeing what he was doing, and blinked. "What...are you doing?" she asked.

"Making you lunch, why?"

She grinned. "I guess...I haven't had anyone make me lunch, for a long time."

"How long?" he asked, packing it neatly into the small cooler bag.

"I dunno, since I was seven, I guess?" She leaned against the counter, watching him.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. He knew she'd taken on the responsibilities young, but seven—it seemed so early.

"Yeah," she said, "mom's lunches were—well, I figured out pretty early, that I'd rather pack my own."

"Well," he said, "I'm glad I get to take care of you," and took advantage of her proximity, stealing a kiss while putting the lunch kit in her hand.

"Alright," she said, pulling away, "I need to go to work."

"Actually," he said, hooking an arm around around her waist, "you really don't have to. We could hide away here all summer," and he kissed her at her neck, "you wouldn't even need to leave the house." He had managed to get her to walk back into the curve of his arms and body. "Or wear clothes," he grinned.

She moaned, pulling herself away, with what felt like superhuman effort. "You," she said, "are terrible."

He grinned wickedly. "Terribly good, at all the things you like."

"I love you, and I'll see you later," she said, throwing on her coat, and heading for the door before he could find more successful ways to detain her.

The work, she was grateful to see, was interesting. Most of her coworkers were older students, several seasoned to it from prior internships. There was little talk beyond that involving the tasks at hand, and the first week flew by, a pleasant exhaustion colouring her evenings.

"So," she said, one of these quiet evenings, both of them curled together on the couch, "Charlie and I have been invited for a barbeque at Sue's." She let that sit for a bit, waiting for his reaction. "And," she added, "I was thinking that it would be a perfect opportunity for you to actually go hunt. Properly."

He didn't speak right away, but listened to the tight breathing of her chest. "You've been working up to talking to me about this, haven't you?" he said. "You're worried."

She didn't hesitate to say "yes."

He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "That you think I'm going to object to this, and for making you fret."

Bella sat up, facing him. "You mean," she began cautiously, "you're not?"

"No," he said. "I trust you. You trust...the wolves. I can't say that I want my wife to spend any time near them, but...I know they'll keep you safe from others of my kind." He didn't add that he worried for her safety from them. He'd seen Emily's face in Jacob's thoughts enough. It was never far...just below the surface of his conscious mind.

"I will," he said, "ask that you let me or Alice know when you're leaving their place, so we can make sure we pick up where they leave off." He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"That seems," Bella said, still stunned by his pacific attitude, "reasonable."

She felt uncertain, driving down to La Push, that she was actually going to arrive. It was only when she pulled into Sue's driveway, that it felt at all real.

"Hey," Jacob said, loping out to meet her, "the fun's here!" and pulled her into a hug. "I'm surprised the control freak let you come!"

"Thanks Jake," Bella said, rolling her eyes. "Nice to see you too."

After welcoming everyone, Sue had refused Bella's offer of help, promptly setting Charlie to work in the kitchen.

"Wow," she whispered to herself, watching Charlie join Sue gladly.

"Come on," Jacob said, "before she changes her mind. Let's go for a walk."

"Sure," Bella said, and didn't pull back when he grabbed her hand.

They wandered down the ambling path to the beach.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful it is down here, this time of year," she said, more to herself, than Jacob. The waves were a bright blue in the inconstant light of the sun, broken by the intermittent clouds.

"Better when you have someone to enjoy it with," Jacob smiled back. He slid his arm around her waist.

Bella stopped walking. "Jake," she said softly, her voice full of warning. "You _know_ Edward and I are together."

"Yes," he said, rolling his eyes. "Just being your friend, Bella. That's all."

"Great," she said, pulling his arm off of her. "Let's keep it that way then."

"What?" He said, grinning, matching her stride as they walked along the crunch of the beach's stones, "You so used to kissing a fridge, you can't handle a bit of heat?"

She smiled back. "Kitchen appliances, huh? Does that make you the oven?"

"Sure," he said, still grinning. "At least I'm hot," and then winked.

Bella's eye roll was accompanied by an exasperated breath. "Maybe we should talk about something else?" she asked. "Like, you know, what you're doing with all your time these days? Now that school's done?"

He snorted, kicking at a piece of driftwood. "Free time? You kidding me?"

She frowned, the quizzical cut of her eyebrows garnering an explanation.

"We've been busy," he said more seriously, shrugging. "There isn't much free time."

The heavy we told her all she needed to know about what he'd been doing, but what had driven that activity remained unclear.

"He hasn't told you, has he?" he asked, seeing her face, and snorted in disgust.

"Told me what?" she asked cautiously. She wasn't sure she wanted Jacob to be the one to tell her. Not with the scowl he wore.

They'd stopped walking, and Jacob sat down, rifling through the larger stones at his feet, looking for one to throw. Finding one, he chucked it hard, and Bella could hear the distinct 'plop' above the ocean's soft wash.

"There's been a lot of," and he searched for a word that he could use, "activity...in the area."

She understood what he meant, but her brow was still furrowed. Edward hadn't said anything.

"Any...pattern?" she asked, surprised he was evening talking about this.

Jacob wanted to answer, but could feel the distinct choke at his throat, the words waiting, but his tongue tightly bound by Sam's order.

He shook his head, looking at her with pleading eyes, trying to make her understand.

"You...can't say, can you?" she said. Edward had told her that much, at least. After Jacob's last visit. Explained the power Sam's orders had.

He sighed in relief, but couldn't nod to confirm it.

"It's OK," she said, "I get it. I'll ask him."

"Good," he said. "He should tell you, Bella. It's not...OK, that he doesn't."

"He wants to protect me...from worry," she offered, almost apologetically.

"What," he scoffed, "you beyond handling a bit of worry?"

"My friend went missing, Jake. And she hasn't been found." Her heart clenched, thinking of Grace. So small, so timid. She wondered still, what had happened to her.

 _Because of me,_ she thought.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me," she said, and was surprised by the tears that she found welling over the lips of her eyes.

"Hey," Jacob said, pulling her into a hug. "This isn't your fault. None of this."

She wiped her nose. "I don't think that's really true, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's not," he said. "We all know that."

He didn't add that they also all blamed the Cullens. He let his grim expression be invisible, keeping his face soft for Bella. His nose was resting just to the side of her head, taking in her smell, still lurking beneath the sharp one above it.

"I'm surprised," she said, trying to lighten things. "You haven't complained once about how I smell."

He pulled back so they could see each other. "You smell like you, Bella." He wanted to say more, but let the moment slip away. Instead, he looked down, watching her hands. He'd always loved looking at them, so fine, her long fingers delicate, but strong too. The ring on her right one caught his eye.

"That's really unusual," he said, admiring the oval of tiny jewels, and before her could think better of it, "glad to see it's not on the other hand."

She flushed heavily, her face an angry red.

"Sorry," he grimaced, blowing out a breath. "Sometimes, I feel like I need both feet in my mouth."

The colour was fading from her cheeks, and she nodded. "Let's head back. Maybe Sue will be tired of Charlie's help by now, hey?"

"Hey," he said, catching her hand, and she stood. "I'm sorry," he said again, "for saying that. But I'm not sorry for how I feel, Bella."

She looked down, shuffling her feet uncomfortably over the stones.

"I love you, Bella. I always will."

She shook her head. This was not what she expected to happen today. She thought they could at least be together, just as friends, without the tension of Edward there.

"I need to go," she said quietly, too full of emotion to say much more.

And suddenly, Jacob's feelings were not so contained. Everything inside him screamed possessively, and he said, "No!", and pulled her back, this time into a kiss that shocked her so much, she could barely breathe through it.

When her brain caught up with her body, she used her hands to push him away, but couldn't. His hands slipped from her head to her shoulders, and then her back, and further.

He wasn't expecting to feel her sharp knee, and it effectively broke his grip, but only momentarily. It was the soft crunching sound, and the brush against his chest that really surprised him.

The noise she made after that was even more so.

"Don't!" she screamed at him, when he went to her, trying to look at her hand. There were other, more colourful things that she said, too, as she walked back towards the house, one hand cradled in the other, jerking her body away from him when he came close.

A few minutes before they reached the house, she turned on him. "What the hell Jake? What part of Edward and I being together can you not get?"

He took a sharp breath in through his nose. "Do you really want to know? Really?" His hands clenched at his sides.

"Yes!" she said, through gritted teeth. The anger and adrenaline were keeping the worst of the pain away, but not all.

Jacob's jaw was tight with the next words. "You and I are meant to be together, Bella. I know it, and someday, you will too." Seeing the look on her face, he said, "Oh, sure, I don't doubt how you feel about him, but he's not the man you need. Mostly because he's dead." He spat the last word out in disgust. "And it's only a matter of time before he tries to make you that way, too."

 _Did he know?_ She wondered, what she wanted? Edward wouldn't have said anything, but Jacob was right. It was what she wanted. Even if Edward didn't.

"Every time we're together Bella, I feel it with you-the pull you feel too," and he looked at her, challenging her to refute this. "You want to be with me. Even if you won't admit it."

"I am with Edward, Jacob. I've made my choice. I need you to respect it," and then she turned, and continued her stormy way back to the house.

Jacob intercepted her before she could get inside. "Let me drive you home," he said softly. "Let your Dad have his afternoon with Sue. Please?"

She was boiling with anger. Mostly because he was right. She didn't want to ruin Charlie's time with Sue. Didn't want to tell him what had happened, either.

"Fine," she whispered angrily. "Let me tell them I'm going."

Charlie didn't look surprised that she'd hurt herself, falling at the beach, but was disappointed to have her miss dinner. "It's fine," she reassured him. "What's a season without another bodily injury?"

She had texted Alice, awkwardly, with her one good hand, feeling a sense of angry deja vu. She hoped it wasn't badly injured, but the second boy-induced injury to her hand was frustrating.

At the boundary though, it was Edward who stepped into the middle of the road.

Bella sighed, mentally preparing herself for the fireworks.

She was impressed when Edward didn't bodily pull Jacob from the car.

The restraint ended there, though.

"SHE IS NOT YOURS!" he roared, charging towards him.

This was too much.

She stepped between them, startling them away from each other. "NO!" she screamed, turning her head to face them in turn, "I don't belong to anyone!" Then, to Edward, she said more calmly, "this hurts, and I'd like Carlisle to look at it," flushing uncomfortably, like a small child that kept making the same mistake, over and over, and over again.

"I meant what I said, Bella," Jacob called, as Edward helped her back in the car.

Edward turned, looking at him darkly. "Back off, Wolf," he hissed.

"Whatever, Leech," he sneered back.

The drive to Carlisle was awkward.

"Don't," she said. "I know you're thinking it, but don't."

He looked at her sideways, one eye on the road, the other watching the colour of her face shift. "And what is it you think I'm thinking?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Something like 'I told you so'," she mumbled, still angry at Jacob.

"Well," he said, "I don't think I did 'tell you so', as you put it, so no, I'm not. I'm sorry about your hand, though." He frowned, thinking about what he'd seen in Jacob's thoughts, the grip on the wheel tightening. He earnestly wished she would tell her parents. It would solve so many problems.

Carlisle had raised an eyebrow, seeing the same hand injured. He hadn't aksed any questions beyond the most professional, though, and his quiet, "just a brace needed, this time," was the only editorializing offered. Bella breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can still go to work on Monday, right?"

"Sure," Carlisle said, "but try to avoid hitting people with it?" he asked, eyebrows up. "Or aim more accurately for the soft bits."

Emmett's booming laugh resonated through the main floor, and was followed by a "I can teach ya how!"

Bella grumbled something like "probably hurt myself again," and was rewarded by another loud laugh richoteing off the walls.

"Well," Edward said, helping her up by her good hand, "shall we head home?"

She nodded, and they were just heading towards the door when Edward stopped, suddenly, turning back towards Alice.

She was frozen in place, a look of horror on her face. Edward's face was a perfect mirror image.

"What?" Jasper asked, not hearing the thoughts, but feeling what they were. "What is it? Alice?"

"They're coming," she whispered, "For us."


	34. The Wolves

**The Wolves**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

* * *

"Who?" Bella asked.

Jasper knew, and asked the more important questions. "How many, and when?"

"Twenty," she said. "Five days." She shook her head, like it would change the outcome.

Bella had realized the who by this point, and swallowed. Twenty vampires. Here.

She thought about her friends, and her family—human, and vampire alike, and understood the dire implications. Closing her eyes, she considered how she might avert this. Go to Seattle? Present herself as an offering? Stop it before it came here?

"No," Alice said, shaking her head. "They'd still come, Bella. They're set on their course."

Edward looked at Alice, and then Bella. "No!" he said, moving towards her. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella. You'll be safe."

"And everyone else?" she whispered, looking at him in horror.

There were no easy answers there.

"We'll ask the wolves," Edward finally said, the words awkward over his tongue.

Bella just stared in disbelief. It took her a moment to realise what he was asking. "No!" she finally said, mirroring his own protest. "They'll die—or get hurt—no!"

"They need to know," he said, and Carlisle nodded.

"They do," he concurred. "I'll call Sam. And I think they'll want to help."

Bella was astounded. "You would put them—"

"Where they're designed to be?" Edward finished for her. "Yes. This is what they do, Bella. They protect people from our kind."

Carlisle was already on the phone, his voice growing distant as he walked away from the rest of them.

Bella felt nauseated.

 _Twenty vampires._

She knew the damage one could do, and absent mindedly touched the mark at her wrist.

"Nothing will happen to you, Bella," Edward said again.

"I'm not worried about me," she said. "I'm worried about everyone else."

Carlisle had returned. "Let's go," he said. "They're on their way to meet us." Turning to Edward, he said, "we'll need you to translate," he said, his voice hard with expectation.

"Of course," Edward said, nodding.

Bella turned angrily, following them. The ride there was uncomfortable, and rough, over the hard ruts of the summer's drier ground. She said nothing, and Edward made no demands of her company, grimly determined to accomplish the work before them.

She couldn't see the wolves, but knew the others could when they stiffened freshly.

"Whoa," Emmett said.

Not able to stomach her nerves anymore, she whispered to Edward, "what is it?"

"The pack," he said, "they're not ten. They're fifteen."

Bella's eyes widened, and she could just make out in the distance, the dim shapes moving towards them against the deeper blackness of the woods.

She said nothing, but swallowed.

Edward seemed strangely relieved. Alice giggled. She could see that Jasper was smiling.

"We'll be fine," Edward said, breathing a sigh of relief. "With these numbers, it'll be nothing. We'll have the clear advantage."

Bella remained unconvinced, and watched anxiously, as Jasper explained what they would be up against.

The night wore on, and she found herself sagging, tired by the need for sleep, and the weight of the worry. When the wolves had begun to leave, she was alarmed when Jacob's russett shape approached Edward directly.

"No," he said, "I hadn't considered that," and frowned in Jacob's direction. "But you're right."

Bella was tired of being left out of these conversations. "Can you please explain what's going on?" she said tersely, her manners worn thin.

Edward looked at her, squeezing her hand. "Sorry," he said, "he'll explain himself."

Jacob loped back into the scrum of nearby trees, and reappeared as himself.

To say it was remarkably awkward, seeing him again, was an understatement.

"How's your hand?" he asked softly—apologetically.

"Fine," she sighed. "What's up?" she asked, tilting her head towards Edward.

"You need to be somewhere safe, when this happens," Edward said.

"Yeah," she said, clenching her jaw, "I need to be with you."

"No," Edward said, shaking his head. "No way."

"So," Jacob said, "what're you going to do? Stick her somewhere with a cellphone and hope for the best?"

Edward grimaced. He hadn't thought this far ahead, and the shifting emotions on his face told Bella there was another silent conversation going on.

"That might work," Edward said, surprised, looking suddenly at her. "Jacob thinks their scent might mask yours. Let us take you somewhere," and he paused, smiling, laughing, "yes, I can see that working well."

"What?" she said, frustrated beyond bearing.

"Seth," Jacob said, "is too young to be part of this, but not too young not to keep you safe," he said, his eyebrows up hopefully. "You'd be doing us a favour, keeping him out of trouble."

Bella blinked. If she could do anything to keep any of them safe, then yes. "OK. How would that work?"

They made their plans, and parted on far better terms than the earlier evening had allowed.

Their thoughts though, echoed the same word: safe. Each longing for the protection of the other.


	35. Waiting

**Waiting**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Camping, huh?" Charlie said, pushing his plate away. "Have you ever actually been camping, Bella?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad, I've been camping...once," she mumbled.

He snorted, and then laughed.

Edward smiled at his. "It'll be fun," he said, "we're all going."

"Can't wait to hear all about it," Charlie said, his eyebrows up, clearly expecting entertainment at the end of the weekend.

"I'll try not to disappoint," she said, seeing the look on his face, and he grinned, a little sheepishly.

"Well, Sue and I are off on a fishing trip too, so I should get going, get a last few things packed. Thank you for dinner," he smiled at Edward. "Didn't know you were a cook—a good one, too."

"Thank you, and you're most welcome," Edward said softly.

Bella was still getting used to Charlie being...nice, to Edward. She had to catch herself before doing a double-take, not wanting to draw attention to it.

She sighed, watching him pull away. At least he and Sue would be far from home.

She wished she could send others too.

He was standing behind her, arms folded over hers, and she shivered, thinking of the coming days. He didn't try to tell her it would be fine. He knew better. "Hot tub?" he asked. It was her favourite spot in the evening, where they could sit together.

She turned to look back at him, smiling. "Aren't you frisky."

He laughed. "No, you just seem...tense."

"Insightful, aren't you?" she said coyly, adding, "yes, let's."

Settled into the water, they watched the stars make their slow appearance. Bella very much wanted to discuss the plans for the next day, reassure herself of their schemes and plans, but found herself strangely mute.

She'd finally told him, in a gut-wrenching of guilt, that she couldn't be apart from him for this. That she'd had enough of what it was to be seperated in that last year. She couldn't do it again.

He'd looked at her, trying to put words to it, and then failed, simply nodding, and phoning Jasper to make plans.

She didn't want to think about what the pack's reaction would be to this. Or Jacob's.

So they sat, both of them, stewing in their tense anticipation, pretending to enjoy the company of the other.

It was Edward who gave up all resolve for pretense, and turned her to him, taking a kiss that he knew would mark her lips with a bruise.

She returned the pressure, and felt the sting of her fractured knuckle, as she dug her fingers into the minute give of his flesh.

They clung to each other, moving only to the bare necessity of the deck, feet still dangling in the water. It was desperate, and if he could have shed tears, he would have. Her fear was so vivid as to be infectious, her scent muskier, and dark, the Freesia bleeding into a heavy Jasmine.

After, when they'd retreated to the nest of their bed, he whispered his reassurances to her, and she listened, as sleep pulled her down, and she lived in the mantra of her trust in him.


	36. The best laid plans

The best laid plans

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Nothing I haven't done before, dude" Jacob said, arms folded, rolling his eyes, standing inside the tent entrance.

Edward wanted to destroy something, listening to Jacob's thoughts, but the sight of his wife, lips blue with the hypothermia beginning to grip her, let his better judgement take hold.

"Please," he said, trying not to spit it out. "Help her."

Jacob didn't waste any time, but slid into the sleeping bag. Her shaking had slowed, and she breathed out in pain, feeling the difference in their temperatures.

"You're OK," he said, "you'll warm up soon."

She couldn't master her lips to produce speech, but nodded, and Jacob pulled her closer.

Edward hissed, hearing Jacob's memories.

"Get out if you can't handle it," Jacob shot back, his voice an equally low sibilation.

Bella stuck her ice-cold hands under his armpits, and Jacob jumped.

It broke the tension, and Edward laughed.

"Nice, blood-sucker, nice," Jacob mumbled.

Edward could hear Bella's breathing beginning to slow, as her blood began to move back to her extremities. She was quickly falling asleep.

"Thank you," he said to Jacob, "and," with a much more menacing tone, "please try to think about something else."

"And what," Jacob shot back, "exactly, are you thinking of right now? Hmm?" He arched an eyebrow at Edward.

"None of your business."

"Hypocrite."

"I'd stop listening if I could. Believe me," Edward said, genuinely.

Jacob snorted in disbelief, but tried to think of neutral memories. It was difficult. His mind tended to her, and he found himself remembering their time together.

"Motorbikes?" Edward asked. "Really?"

"She didn't tell you?" Jacob asked, surprised, but pleased too. Something that was purely theirs.

He liked it.

Edward winced, seeing what she looked like, arriving with the bikes that first day. Then Jacob remembered what she looked like the day before she left for college. Radiant. Smiling. Happy.

They both sighed.

It was a truce, of sorts, this desire for her happiness, and Jacob let sleep creep up over himself, his own body protecting Bella's from the cold, and, he hoped, the other cold things that lurked in their futures.

The morning was bright, and crisp, but the temperature had risen enough that when Bella woke up, she was sweltering. Jacob's arms were heavy over her, and she struggled to move away.

"Give me a hand?" she asked quietly, looking up at Edward.

"Gladly," Edward said, and whipped the sleeping bag out from under both of them, startling Jacob awake.

He sprang up with a growl, and Edward moved Bella quickly behind him.

"Edward!" she said, "quit it!"

"You asked for help," he said darkly.

"I didn't ask you to be a jerk," she hurled back at him, and, unzipping the tent, walked outside.

Both of them followed, each keeping a careful distance from the other.

"Hey Seth," she said, hoping that he would at least deter further acrimony. Seth whined at her, head moving between Edward and Jacob. "Just ignore them, they're both being jerks."

Derisive snorts punctuated her words.

"Come on, Seth, let's go check what's going on," Jacob said, moving away into the treeline. "I'll be back in a sec," he added, half-turning to Bella.

Bella turned on Edward angrily. "Can you please, just try to get along with him?"

Edward closed his eyes. "I'm not sure," he said softly, "that you appreciate what you're asking, Bella," and he took her hand, drawing her to him. Opening his eyes again, he said, "but if you want me to, if it matters to you, I will. Only for you."

She considered her words. "I do," she said, her voice calmer. She couldn't—wouldn't explain her feelings for Jacob. Not here, not now. But it mattered, deeply, to her. "Thank you."

Edward wrapped her in his arms. "This'll be over soon," he said, "and then we can go back to living our lives."

Bella nodded, still feeling the twist of worry in her midsection.

It didn't help when she felt Edward stiffen.

Then she found herself pulled and thrust behind him, his crouch enough to make her begin to shake. She said nothing, fearful of distracting him.

She'd been so focused in her worry, that others would be hurt, that she'd left the thoughts of Victoria behind. But now, seeing the fiery red of her hair flame out of the forest, she found room enough for fear of this vitriolic creature.

What made her gasp in horror, though, were the two other faces that flanked her.

"Hey Bella," Ben's voice rang out. "How's it goin?" Then he licked his lips.


	37. Gang agley

**Gang agley**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: February 17, 2018 - Edward fans, are you here, still? Remember that warning in chapter 1? This is why.

January, 2018: I confess, there were tears when I wrote this. The title of this chapter is from Robbie Burn's poem, "To a Mouse," and means, 'to go awry.'

* * *

Jasper was grateful that they had assembled early, planning to review strategy, but there was no time.

Alice's gasp brought him up short. "Now!" she said, "They're coming now!"

They moved quickly into formation.

It wasn't the first round of faces that startled Jasper. It was the second.

Grace.

And Bree.

They stopped, mid-track, between the tree-line and the Cullens, stunned.

When Emmett ripped the head off the first of the attackers, their two faces stretched wide in horror. Grace looked at Jasper, and Bree at Grace.

"Run!" Jasper mouthed to them, repeating Emmett's actions on another of the attackers, "Now!"

They did, their hands joined in their flight. The battle progressed, the silent swoop of the wolves making quick work of the remaining assailants.

Up on the bluff, Edward had backed Bella up to the rough rock face.

He was talking to Riley, deftly unpacking the lies Victoria had told him. It was unnerving the boy, but he still stood, ready to attack, loyalty shaken, but firm enough to do damage.

"Mind games, Riley. I warned you," Victoria cooed.

"Could care less," Ben said. "As long as I get what I want."

Edward could very clearly hear what it was he wanted. It hadn't changed from when he was human.

Ben's tone unlocked Bella's voice, and she found apt words for him.

"Fuck you, Ben. As if." She snarled it at him.

He only grinned. "I think I will."

Then they all moved closer, daring Edward to attack.

"You know," Victoria said softly, "I wouldn't have known she was still yours, if you hadn't stopped poor Ben here. I thought you'd given up on her."

Edward growled, a low sound that Bella could feel in her heels, but held his ground.

Ben took another step closer, then Riley, and finally, Victoria, each of them intent on what Edward protected.

None of them heard Jacob and Seth, but Riley and Ben certainly felt the impact.

Seth landed his mark with Riley, taking off his hand with a shrieking clunk. Riley turned, his one good hand still ready to claw, but Seth kept his distance, dancing back and forth, moving Riley further away.

Jacob's choreography with Ben was more animated, and loud, their hatred long-fermented.

Victoria took one look at the wolves, and turned, running.

Edward screamed at her. "You won't get this chance again Victoria!" She had paused, just short of the trees, turning back to look at him, lip curled in anger. "Won't get the satisfaction of ripping my mate to pieces, like I did yours," he offered darkly. "Not that he cared for you. You were simply a convenient tool."

She turned, roaring, and leapt back. The swirl of her and Edward's movement so fast as to almost be invisible.

Bella stayed pressed against the rocks, watching, heart pounding, terrified.

Seth was holding his own, but it was Jacob that was flagging. Ben was missing a bite-sized chunk of his side, but was otherwise unharmed. He had managed to get one hand on Jacob's back, and she could see him begin to squeeze.

"Jacob!" she screamed, and Edward turned, seeing what was happening. He lashed out with his foot, detaching Ben's hold.

But it gave Victoria what she needed, and with a sound that Bella could not understand—nor describe—brought her lips to an unguarded moment at Edward's neck.

Jacob rallied, and Seth had finished with Riley, but there were two vampire bodies in the clearing, neither of which belonged to Victoria.

Bella was breathing. Great big sobbing breaths that wracked her body.

She did not see Jacob finish with Ben, or both them finish with Victoria, but only heard the sounds, their repetition reinforcing what she saw on the ground before her.

Edward lay in two distinct pieces. His face, if it hadn't rested so far from the remainder of his corpse, would have looked tranquil.

She was on her knees, her hand shaking over his head, when she felt Jacob's fingers on her shoulder.

"We have to go, Bella. Now. There are others coming. The—the Volturi?" he looked towards Seth, and then back at Bella, "Alice said we have to go." He was pulling her, lifting her, putting her on Seth's back. "Can you hold on? Bella?"

She nodded, not sure what else she could do. She watched the world go by, everything a painful clench in her chest, her throat.

The spruces, the cedars, the pungent firs—their friendly scents were embedded with Edward's death, and they taunted her as she clung to Seth. It was only the fear of what the Volturi would do to the wolves that made her hold on. Jacob wouldn't leave her to die, but she wouldn't drag him to his own.

No, not now.

It was the smell of the sea that made her realize where they were, and when she felt Jacob pick her up, she didn't resist.

When he set her down again, though, she promptly fell to all fours and vomited.

"Come on," he said, "we're almost there."

 _Did it matter?_ She wondered.

But she also wondered if Edward would like it that Jacob was picking her up again.

She couldn't hold on to what had happened.

He was dead, but her mind kept telling her she was going to go see him soon.

He was dead.

She kept repeating that to herself, sitting on Jacob's couch.

 _Didn't Jacob always say vampires were dead, anyway?_

Then she laughed, at her own, horrific, and profoundly unhumorous joke.

Jacob watched, alarmed. Was she going into shock? Should he do something?

The knock on the door made them both jump, and the smell made him grow tense.

He reminded himself that an attacking vampire would likely not knock, and moved to open it.

He was not surprised to see Carlisle standing there.

"Where's Bella?" he asked, without preamble, stepping inside.

Jacob blew out a nervous breath and gestured to the couch.

"Did she see it happen?" he asked, much more quietly.

Jacob swallowed, closed his eyes, and nodded.

Carlisle nodded in acknowledgement, moving towards Bella.

"Bella?" he said softly.

She stood, shakily, and turned into his arms, loud, and broken sobs making her chest convulse.

Carlisle's own face distorted into its own, tearless grief.

Jacob stood watching, full of his own grief, seeing her hurt. Knowing he'd survived, and Edward hadn't.


	38. Goodbye

**Goodbye**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It had hurt, viscerally, when she'd shaken her head. She didn't want him to come with them.

"I'll always be here for you, Bella," Jacob said, as calmly as he could. "Whatever you need."

"Thank you Jake," she said, her voice cracking over his name.

She'd left with Carlisle, and he'd sunk into the space she'd left on the couch, head between his hands.

Carlisle had taken her back, most of the Cullens there in a somber semi-circle around Edward's body.

The other bodies were gone. Only Edward's remained.

They had laid him neatly in the centre of the bluff, and Bella wondered whose hands had done so.

"Where're Jasper? And Emmett?" she asked, close enough for her rough voice to be heard, "are they—?" she couldn't finish it, her hand at her mouth.

"No!" Alice said, "they're fine, Bella. They went—" and she looked at Carlisle, to see if he'd told her.

"They went to find Grace, and Bree," he said softly. "To keep them safe, from the Volturi," he added.

"They—?" Bella began.

"They're like us now," Alice said softly. "Jasper told them to run, and they did. We'll keep them safe."

Bella nodded, letting the words trickle into understanding. She was surprised to feel relief. _At least_ , she thought, _at least they've survived this...in some way._

The stillness of their assembly returned, and they brought their joint focus to bear on the centre of the bluff, once again.

"You can touch him, if you want, Bella," Esme said gently. "Would you like some privacy, to say goodbye?"

Bella shook her head, kneeling beside him.

"I love you," she said, "more than I could ever possibly make you understand. But I love you. That won't ever change." The tears and the shaking were returning, but there was no movement around her. "I need to say goodbye now," she managed, and put two of her fingers to her lips, and then to his.

Carlisle watched, a spasm of nerves as her touch moved Edward's head. They'd laid it close to his body, but carefully not touching the two pieces together. He remembered, all too well, the ugly creatures the Volturi had made for sport, in his time with them. The severed heads of the recently executed would be reattached to their corpses, and the frightening golems lumbered against each other mindlessly for the betting pleasure of the living dead.

He did not want to warn her, let alone explain why.

She backed away, and nodded. "I'm ready," she rasped. She knew what was coming next.

Carlisle whispered, "goodbye," and threw the lit lighter onto Edward's corpse. It took flame immediately, the cloying purple smoke rising quickly, and thick, around them.


	39. Guilt

**Guilt**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"A traffic accident?" Charlie said, "Is Bella—?"

"She's fine," Carlisle said. "She was in the other car," and he cleared his throat, trying to get the words out. "But Edward," and he stopped. "Edward didn't survive."

Charlie sat down.

His heart clenched, and he knew the proportion of his relief was only matched in equal measure, or more, with Carlisle's grief.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

There were more words, but they were the awash in details that would be lost to Charlie, recalled only later on, when his mind touched the earth again.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"She's with us, at our house," Carlisle said. "We didn't want her to be alone."

"No," Charlie said, "thank you. We'll be home as soon as we can. Tomorrow will be the earliest."

"Please," Carlisle said, "there's no rush. Drive safely."

"Of course," Charlie nodded into the phone.

He was never so glad as to have Sue there to hold, and to be held.

Bella had no such comfort, and neither did the others.

Vampires, she realized, could simply stop. They had no bodily needs, beyond hunting, which they could safely subsist without for weeks at a time.

She was left with the dirty business of living.

And grieving.

And with guilt.

He was dead, because of what she'd been to him. Because she'd called out for Jacob.

She would leave them, she resolved, as soon as possible. They didn't need her as the ugly reminder of his death. They would remember that well enough, without the weight of her own misery.

She hadn't counted on Alice, though.

She hadn't heard the phone ring, either.

Bella started, feeling Alice's cool hand on her shoulder.

"Bella!" a voice said.

Grace's voice.

"Grace?" she asked, hardly believing it. "Where—?"

"We're in Alaska," Grace shot out, her voice almost too fast to understand. "Jasper and Emmett found us and we're here. And there are others—I haven't met them all yet."

"Are...are you OK?" Bella asked. The question didn't begin to touch what had happened to them.

"Yes—we are now. It was...frightening, before, but now, it's OK. Jasper, and Emmett, they explained. We don't have to...hurt...people," she managed. Bella could almost hear her swallowing.

"I was so scared, Grace. They looked for you. I'm sorry. It's because of me—"

"No!," Grace said, the sound making Bella pull the phone away. "I'm happy Bella. You don't know...you don't know what it was like. At home. For me. I mean, I know I told you, but...no. I'm glad."

It was Bella's turn to swallow. "And...Bree?" she asked.

"She's happy too, Bella. We're together."

The last word was weighted in a way that signified more than Bella expected.

"Oh," she said, looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Bella, about Edward," Grace said, her strange voice softer. The words hung there, waiting for a response.

Bella managed a whispered "thank you."

There was silence, as Bella tried to breath, and exist.

"Will you call me, Bella?" Grace asked. "Please?"

Bella could hear sounds in the background, mumbled words and phrases that she couldn't quite catch.

"Yes," she said.

"We have to go now. They want us to hunt," Grace said. "We'll talk soon, OK?"

"OK," Bella said, hearing the beep of the line.

Alice was holding the phone, looking at her. "Please don't," she said, her face creased in a way that Bella hadn't seen before. "Don't leave."

Bella dared bring her eyes up to Alice's. She couldn't hold the gaze though, and dropped her head, focusing on breathing. She felt like she'd cried enough.

"I'm the reason he's dead," she whispered, the words hooked on the edges of her raw throat. "How can you not blame me?"

"What happened?" Alice asked.

Bella curled her legs up under her arms, trying to compress the pain at her centre. "Jacob was in trouble. I called out his name, and Edward helped him, and…" she couldn't finish, but Alice understood.

"He would have done it anyway, Bella," she said. "Truly, he would. He'd _never_ have risked it if he didn't think he could handle it, because it would have meant risking your safety." She looked at Bella carefully, now locked in the tight grip of tears. "He would _never_ risk your life, ever. You know that."

Bella was listening, but only just.

"I need you to believe me, Bella," Alice said, this time her own voice stained with dark emotions. "Because this is true, and if you make a mockery of his death by giving up, I will never forgive you."

This made Bella stop, and listen fully, her eyes taking in the angry curl of Alice's lip.

"You will not give up. You will not blame yourself for this, because it would be throwing away the gift of my brother's life. Don't you _dare_."

"That's enough, Alice," Carlisle said, his voice pulling her away from Bella.

Bella watched Alice's face soften again, the sadness returning, as she turned and walk away.

The others in the house were melting away too, to their various places, and Bella found herself alone with Carlisle, the silence stretched between them.

"She's right," he said softly. "But it wasn't the way to tell you, I'm sorry."

Bella shook her head. "It's OK. She's right." She remembered what Edward had told her, so long ago, about Alice.

It hurt just to think of his name.

It hurt to simply exist.

"It isn't your fault, Bella. We all knew the risks, walking into this. So did Edward. We would do it again. We protect our family." He took her hand, holding it gently. "Always."


	40. The business of living

**The business of living**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Charlie hadn't asked any questions when Bella had spent the night in her room, or when it became two nights, and more. He'd simply bought more groceries.

It was deja vu, really, watching her go through the motions of life. Except, he had no convenient place for the blame he wanted to lay somewhere. She ate, she slept, she talked when spoken to, but she grew pale, and listless between the demands of living.

It was early July when Carlisle's knock surprised them after dinner.

"I just got back from Seattle," he said softly. "I have a few things for Bella." He held a manilla envelope in his hands, and gave a small, apologetic smile.

"Sure," Charlie said, looking back at Bella, sitting at the table, pretending to read the newspaper. "Bella?"

She looked up carefully. She'd heard everything, but was trying not to let Carlisle's presence wake the ghosts she grappled with. She raised a hand in greeting, and attempted a "hi," but it stuck in her throat.

Charlie picked up his keys, as if weighing them. He waited a moment before saying, "Back later, Bells. Be at Sue's if you need me," and stepped out, giving them space to talk.

"We've missed you, Bella," Carlisle said, sitting down beside her.

She nodded. It was too hard to speak yet, the raw feelings that had subsided over the weeks were freshening themselves.

"Esme said that you hadn't returned her calls," he added, looking down at his own hands.

It was harder to even nod, but she did.

"You're not alone in this," he said, his voice still gentle. "And I don't say that to simply make you feel better. We miss him too, and we don't want to have to lose you as well, just because he's gone."

The lump at her throat stopped all words, but the quiet tears were answer enough.

Carlisle sighed. "We've always thought of you as a daughter, Bella. I just wish we'd known we had a daughter-in-law too."

Bella looked down, ashamed that she hadn't told them. She just hadn't known how, or when. She swallowed. "I didn't know how to say," she started, her voice rough and raspy. "And," she said, "I feel like I just keep reminding you of the reason he died." She lost control here, the sobs distorting her breath, as she put her hand ot her mouth.

Carlisle pulled her close, into as gentle a hug as he could manage.

When she'd calmed enough, he went on. "I emptied Edward's safe deposit box today." Here he put the envelope on the table, and slid out the contents. Their wedding picture, and marriage certificate were on top.

They both stared at the papers there.

Bella picked up the picture by its edges, holding it tentatively in her hand.

"His will is there, too," Carlisle said, fingering a thick set of papers beneath. "You should read it."

She pulled it out next, skimming over the pages, her confusion building as she went. "I don't understand," she said, looking at Carlisle.

He wondered if she meant the legal terminology. "You're the sole beneficiary, Bella. It means that what was his, is yours."

She said nothing, absorbing this.

"The appendix has a list of his assets, and a balance sheet." Carlisle flipped to the page, and Bella's eyes widened.

"This was all...his?" she asked, then shook her head, horrified, "no, I can't."

"It's his will, Bella. He wanted this. For you."

"It's too much," she said softly. "It should go to all of you."

Carlisle shook his own head, shrugging. "We don't need it." Watching her face twist with guilt, he said again, "He wanted you, his wife, to have this. He loved you." Pausing, he added, "you don't need to make any decisions now. We'll put it in trust for you, if you like. You can access it whenever you wish."

She nodded, relieved not to have to decide in the moment.

"The houses, though, will need to be taken care of, unless you wish to sell them?"

"Houses?" she asked. How many houses had he bought?

"The one here," Carlisle said, nodding in its direction, "and the two in Seattle."

It dawned on her, which ones he meant.

"He bought them for you, Bella."

The tears were returning again. She wiped her hand across her face.

It had always been too much. He had loved her too much. Done too much. Died because he'd given too much, not left enough for himself.

Carlisle stood. "It's a lot, I know, to take in," he said. "Please, come see us, Bella. You're missed. It would help Alice, I know, immensely. She's lost her brother, and she doesn't have Jasper here—."

"Is he still—?"

"Yes, he and Emmett both are, helping settle them in. Grace's doing well, but Bree, well," he sighed, "Jasper's got first hand experience there."

Bella wondered what that meant. She decided she didn't want to know.

"I'll call Alice," she said, "tomorrow. And Esme, too." She swallowed, after saying it, steeling her resolve.

"Thank you," Carlisle said, and closed the door behind him.

Bella took the papers to the couch, pressing them to her chest. She could smell, faintly, over the pages, Edward's scent. She buried her nose in the crinkly stack, curling over and into herself, trying to make her body small enough that the grief had less room to spread itself.

When Charlie returned, sleep had loosened her grip on them, and the papers had spilled themselves into a loose pile on the floor. He decided against waking her, and picked up the thick pages, tapping them into a neat stack.

He hadn't meant to look, but his eyes, long trained to her name, couldn't help but pick it up, and the adjacent phrase, "my wife."

He stood there, holding them in his hand, willing himself to stop reading the page in front of him.

It was Bella, stirring, that made him set them down on the coffee table. There were more papers under the couch, he realized, and pulled them out, intending only to set them on top of the others. The marriage certificate, and the numbers on the balance sheet made him go wide-eyed.

They'd been married, for months. And they hadn't told him.

Had they told anyone?

Surely, the Cullens would have said something, if they'd known?

Bella's movements became more animated, and he set the two remaining papers down on top of the others, with a stab of guilt.

"Hey," he said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey," she answered back, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"

Grateful for the chance to glance away, he looked at his watch. "Almost ten," he said softly. He waited until she'd sat up, "Carlisle stay long?"

She shook her head. "No," she said, "just wanted to drop off some papers."

"Yeah," Charlie said quietly, "I saw," and he looked pointedly at the marriage certificate on the top of the stack.

She blanched, and then closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Why?" he asked. "Why on earth would you be sorry for that?"

"That I didn't tell you," she murmured.

He blew out a breath. "I can understand why," he said. "And I'm sorry that I wasn't kinder to him."

"That's not why I didn't want to say anything," she said.

"Then why?" he asked.

"You and mom," she said, "were really against the idea of marriage, especially young."

He nodded, feeling worse. "Did...anyone, know?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't want to tell anyone until we told you."

He considered this. "Is that your wedding ring?" he asked, looking at her right hand.

She looked at it too, and nodded.

"You should wear it properly," he said, his own voice hoarse with feeling. He turned it lightly on her hand, pulling it off, and set it on the other. "Let others see that you're grieving your husband."

She wanted to say thank you, to tell him how much it meant to her, but the words, faithless creatures, eluded her. The crush of his arms over her own was enough.

"I'll call your mom, tomorrow," he said, "tell her, if you want."

It was her turn to blow out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Dad."

They sat for a long time, each in absorbed in their guilt for the other, before heading to bed

"Love you, Bella," he said, before turning to his own room.

"Love you, too," she said softly.


	41. Almost Normal

**Almost normal**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It was strange, to drive up to the house alone. Sliding out of the car, it was odd too, to feel the ring on her left hand, instead of her right. It fit snugly, commanding her attention.

"Bella," Alice said, making her jump beside the car, catching her with a hug. Her voice was softer than usual, devoid of the normal pertness and energy it carried.

Bella returned the embrace, Alice's small form feeling smaller than usual. "Missed you," she said, her voice so easily raw again.

"You too." Alice broke it off. "Come on in, let's go see everyone."

"Emmett!" she said, genuinely pleased to see him, almost managing a smile. She got a gruff, "hey," and a hug in response, and the pattern repeated itself, with small variations, as the Cullens welcomed her.

They lost themselves in safe talk about the details of her days. About how Charlie had learned to cook. What she was doing at work. She hadn't taken much time off, the distraction it offering respite from the gaping maw of grief.

It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, being near them. If anything, it was a small comfort to hear their voices.

"Have you seen Jasper?" Bella asked.

"No," Alice said. "He's been...busy, with the girls."

Bella dared raise her eyebrows at this. "Too grisly for me to know?"

She snorted. "No," she smiled, "Grace's great. Bree's having a hard time adjusting to being vegetarian, but she's...committed, to Grace," she said, not sure how much to say.

Bella smiled at this. "It's OK, Alice. I kinda figured that part out from what Grace said." Then her brow furrowed some, and she wondered aloud. "Will I ever be able to...see, Grace, again? I mean, anytime soon?"

It was Alice's turn to frown. "Not anytime soon, no. It takes time, Bella. To learn to control yourself. A year, at least, if not more. We wouldn't want to risk it, too early."

Esme had drifted into the living room, sitting down across from Bella. "So," she said, catching a natural break in the conversation, "you must be registering for classes soon, or at least thinking about it."

"Yeah," Bella said, "early August," nodding. It felt so soon, and yet far away, too, thinking about school. She hadn't applied for residence, of course, assuming they'd be living together. Her throat closed up.

They could hear it, and paused, "it's OK," Esme said softly. "You don't have to hide your grief here. Or explain it."

Bella hated crying. Hated sobbing more.

She was making fast friends with both, though, and they knew her body intimately. Her eyes were almost constantly bloodshot, from it.

When the lump had subsided to a manageable size, she cleared her throat. "I'm taking some engineering courses," she said, "and a literature one, too."

"Oh lovely," Esme said, "there are some wonderful undergrad architecture courses there too."

"And their arts and design school isn't bad as well," Alice added.

Emmett piped here as well, "and you should totally go for the football team too," laughing.

Bella snorted out the tea she was drinking, joining him.

"Oh my god, can't take you anywhere," Alice said goodnaturedly, handing her a napkin.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed. It felt good. She almost felt alive.

The evening passed on in much the same vein, and when Esme said dinner was ready, it was easy to sit with them, to eat, while they talked with each other about their projects and plans.

As the evening drew to a close, Alice pulled her aside. "So," she said, "I was wondering if you still wanted a roommate, this fall, or if you wanted some time on your own."

This drew Bella up short. She hadn't expected the question, but she could certainly see why. "No," she said, "you should go be with Jasper. I'll be fine."

Alice watched her face, shrewdly evaluating her response. "Alright," she conceded, "but I want you to know you can call, and I can be there in a few hours if you need it. Any of us will."

Bella gave a small smile in thanks.

"Now," Alice said, much more business like. "Shopping next weekend. Where to?"

Bella cringed internally. She'd promised they would go for a day, out of love for Alice, more than anything else. "Anywhere within an hour or two would be fine," she said, shrugging. "At a reasonable driving speed, that is," she clarified.

Making her goodbyes at the door, she slipped into the driver's seat, and drove home, holding tight about her the stretch of their love, and care.


	42. Pack up the moon

**Pack up the moon**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"So," Cathy said, "you're living on your own?"

She seemed concerned, Bella could see, like being on your own was some sort of deficiency.

"Yeah," Bella said, not wanting to talk too much about it.

"I hope," Cathy said more softly, "you didn't keep it from me because you thought I'd be upset, or something." She was looking at Bella, a dimple between her eyebrows. It was clear she wasn't referring to Bella living alone.

"No," Bella explained, "we didn't tell anyone. I wanted to tell my parents first, and his," she added, "but we didn't get a chance." It amazed her that she could say this without the sting of tears.

Cathy looked relieved, breathing out a sigh. "Good, because I thought you thought I'd been jealous, when I got your e-mail."

Bella shook her head, "no, of course not." She'd been surprised when Cathy had reached out to her, but in a good way. She'd figured a lot of friends would find it strange that she was telling them she'd had a husband—a secret one—who had died.

They'd all been kind. Sympathetic. As much as they could be.

But the one friend, the one she wanted to see, had simply disappeared.

Sam had been cagey. Billy moreso. "He's fine," they'd both said, but wouldn't say where. "Around," was as close an answer as she got, and she hadn't pushed it. Seth had clearly wanted to tell her, and just as clearly couldn't. Gagged, she supposed, by orders.

"It's fine," she'd told him, the last night before leaving for school. "I get that he's OK. Just...if he comes back, will you tell him I want to see him?"

Seth had nodded, his adolescent cheeks wobbling with his enthusiasm.

Charlie had insisted, this time, on coming with her, to set up her place. Wanted to see where she was staying, and lay his own eyes on things, to make sure they were safe.

"You don't need to," she'd said, though it made her chest ache in a good way, knowing that he wanted to.

"I know I don't," he said, "but I'll feel better getting you settled in."

He'd been impressed by the house, and the way it'd been kept. "Everything looks good," he said, having inspected the furnace. "Has someone been in over the summer?"

"Maybe," she said, "Carlisle said they'd have someone check things over. I didn't ask," she finished awkwardly. The Cullens were still dangerous territory to cover if she wanted to have a functional conversation with anyone.

Charlie had nodded approvingly. "Good," he'd said, "because there's a lot to learn about owning a house. I'm glad they've given you a hand with it."

"So," Cathy said, pulling Bella from her memories. "What're you taking this year?"

"I'm in the entry-level Engineering program, with a few other courses just for interest's sake," Bella said. "You?"

"History all the way baby!"

Bella smiled. She imagined the drama of history would suit Cathy well.

The course work was busy though, and it was a few weeks after her birthday before she saw her again.

She'd found a rare, dry spot on the grass on which to eat her lunch, a book propped open in front of her.

"Hey you!" Cathy said, throwing her own books down beside her.

"Hey," Bella managed, through a bite of sandwich.

"This is Tyson. Tyson—Bella."

Tyson smiled softly, and Bella recognized him. "I think we have class together, don't we?"

"Maybe?" Tyson said, "sorry, I find the first bit of the year a bit nuts. Too many new people," he said shyly.

"Tell me about it," Bella commiserated. "You taking English 200 with Daniels? Or, maybe I've just seen you in the building?"

"No, no, I've got English with Daniels. Big class, though," he said. "You sit near the back or something?"

She smiled guiltily, "yes," she said. She did, in case she needed to make a speedy getaway. The professor didn't always tell them what they'd be discussing the next day, and she lived in fear of some stray word tripping her over into her grief, or dissolving into a humiliating puddle of tears in the middle of the lecture.

So far, so good.

But she stayed in the last few rows, just in case.

She, Cathy, and Tyson passed the lunch hour together engrossed in the safe talk of school. Bella and Tyson were mutually delighted to discover they were both taking the same math course, though they were in different sections.

"Oh good," Tyson said, "someone to study, or commiserate with."

"What, don't like math?" Bella asked, surprised he'd elected to take it through his Arts degree.

"Not really," he said, "but it's required for the teaching program." He shrugged. "It'll be worth it, eventually," he smiled. His grin made his cheeks dimple, and the curls of his brown hair made him look like a cheeky cherub.

When she arrived to her English lecture the following week, she tucked her nose into her book, trying to predict what the next section they were covering would be. When someone sat down in the aisle seat beside her, the proximity, so far from the other groups in the room surprised her, but not enough to pull her from the book.

"Hey," came Tyson's voice.

"Oh," she said, letting her eyes meet his, smiling, "nice to see you again."

"You too," he said softly, but then turned his attention to the front, where the lecturer had begun.

They were a good chunk of the hour in, when the professor instructed them to open to page fourteen-hundred and seventy, and Bella's gaze hit the title that made her heart clench into a sputtering rhythm.

Professor Daniels had a rich voice, deep and vibrant with long use. He didn't spare it in the reading of the poem. By the third stanza, Bella whispered a distraught, "excuse me," and tripped over Tyson getting out of the lecture hall.

She really didn't expect to be followed, so she started when she felt a light touch on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, adding nothing more, but sitting beside her on the hallway bench.

"Sorry," she said, "about tripping over you."

He shrugged. That didn't matter to him. "It's still pretty fresh, huh?"

She looked up at him from under her wet eyelids, wondering if Cathy had told him.

"Did Cathy say something?" She asked, fishing in her bag for the constant pack of tissues she kept there.

"No," he said, "it's just kinda obvious."

She snorted, wondering at how she must look.

"I don't mean that," he said, shaking his head, seeing her rub her face. "I lost my twin, a few years ago. Car accident," he said. "Stuff like that," and he lifted his chin towards the lecture hall, "set me off all the time. Couldn't even watch TV commercials without falling apart."

Bella nodded. She knew exactly how that felt.

"My husband," she said hoarsely, "this summer."

He nodded, "I'm so sorry," he said, putting his own hand on top of hers to softly squeeze, and then release it. After a moment he said, "I'm gonna to head back in. If you want to go, I can send you my notes, if you like."

Bella sighed, glad to be relieved of the need to return to class. "That'd be great," she said, "I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure," Tyson said, and quickly jotted down her address, leaving her to collect herself in peace.

She took the long way home. The one that took her by the fountain outside the main library.

He'd proposed there.

She sat on the bench, fingering the place where he'd sat, not so many months before, and opened her book to the poem she hadn't been able to stomach in class.

"Funeral Blues," she said, making herself read the words out loud. They were the only ones she could force her throat to produce, though. The rest wedged themselves behind the protective lump there, and her recitation was a silent one.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,  
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead  
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.  
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,  
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,  
My working week and my Sunday rest,  
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;  
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;  
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


	43. Assembling the sun

**Assembling the sun**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"There's a special place in hell for people who buy furniture from Ikea, Bella," Alice said, looking at the box.

"I didn't ask for help, Alice," she replied.

"Well clearly," she mumbled, "you need it," fixing the box, and then Bella, with a judgemental frown.

She didn't add any other complaints, but did assist, when asked, with some necessary torque.

"There," Bella said, admiring the small, black side table, which fit perfectly beside the couch.

"Like a beggar at a banquet," Alice moaned.

"Now you know how i feel standing next to you, Alice," Bella added, giving her a look that silenced further protest.

"You didn't tell me you had company," Alice said, suddenly looking towards the door.

"That's because I don't, Alice, otherwise I wouldn't have made plans with you." This was said in a way that suggested she might be regretting said plans.

"Well then," Alice chirped, "I think that's about to change," and she ducked towards the back door. "I'll be back later," she called, "when he's gone."

He? Bella thought, hearing the doorbell ring, walking towards it.

"Oh," she said, seeing Tyson there. "Hi."

"Hey yourself," he said back. "I thought we were going to study?" His thumb pointed backwards, to the campus, in the general direction of the library. He didn't look miffed, but was very, very wet.

Bella closed her eyes. She'd completely forgotten. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Let me get my stuff." Then she realised she'd be asking him to make a long walk back, after an already sloshy, and long walk here. "Um, do you want to come in? Dry off? Maybe study here?" Realising that she had inconvenienced him, "have a cup of tea over it too?"

"That'd be really lovely," he said, "thanks," stepping inside.

He really was soaked, and she pointed to where he could hang up his wet things.

They sat at the dining room table, books spread out, mulling over tea, and equations.

"Ikea, huh?" he said, at a natural break in the conversation, looking at the box in the living room.

Bella prepared for an assault on her lack of taste.

"I love Ikea. Used to go just for the experience of it."

She grinned, hearing it. "Me too. They make the best cookies."

"My brother and I used to get lost there, deliberately, whenever our parents took us. It was like the best game of hide and seek ever. Millions of closets to hide in." He smiled at the memory, shaking his head. "You have siblings?" he asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Just me."

The 'just me' held other meanings too.

"So," he said, looking at the time. "I should get going, but I should also let you know that I won't be around next Thursday. Going home for Thanksgiving."

Bella looked at him, and then at the calendar on the wall. "Um, Tyson?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanksgiving isn't for six weeks," she said.

"Oh," he smiled, "no, Canadian Thanksgiving," he clarified. "My Mom's side is. She just pretends to be American." He grinned. It was very charming. Knowing almost. It made Bella flush with minute pleasure, seeing it.

"Anything different, beyond the date?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh yes, or should I say, 'oui', something called Tourtiere. You heard of it?"

She shook her head.

"I'll bring you some back," he promised.

She was sorry to see him trudge off into the rain. His company had been a pleasant relief from her own stew of thoughts. She wasn't alone long, before Alice reappeared.

"You know," Bella said, "you can meet my friends, Alice."

"Sure," she said, "I could, but I'd like to not interfere there, as much as I can avoid it."

Bella thought about this for a moment. "You're not," she started, "a risk to them, Alice. Not anymore. Not with Victoria gone," she finished more quietly.

Alice tried to smile, but it withered on her lips before flowering fully. "I'd like to think that, Bella. Truly. But then I remember where Jasper is, and I'd rather not take the risk. You need a chance to be yourself, without supernatural creatures crawling all over, and in and out of your life."

"And yet," Bella said, her voice fully sardonic, "here you are. And I'm happy for it, Alice. Truly, as you say."

"Good," Alice answered, letting her pert self reemerge, "because I'm here to instruct you in the finer points of how to attire and present yourself as a decent human being. Do you even look at the clothes I buy you?"

This was more like the Alice she knew. The Alice from before.

"Yes, I do. And then I pick things that are actually practical."

The evening moved into a heated exchange about the relative value of clothes and appearance, and ended with a lengthier, more sedate discussion of design principles, in which Bella was beginning to be able to hold her own.

"Huh," Alice said, "look at that Bella Swann. You're getting all growed up and educated."

"Cullen," she said softly.

Alice paused momentarily, then nodded. "Sorry," she said, "I didn't realise."

Bella shook her head. "It's OK. It wasn't like we sent announcements or anything."

Then she stopped, processing the fact that she'd just made a joke. Not a very funny one, but a joke.

Alice was standing though. "It's late," she said. "And I should get back."

Bella looked at her, wondering what depth of feeling those cool eyes held. She didn't press. She knew she was luckier, in some respects, than they were. Her feelings could change. Her memory be faint by comparison. What she felt would fade. Eventually.

Not so for them.

"Thank you for coming," she said softly, feeling the now less familiar, and cold embrace.

"Always happy to," Alice said, but Bella wondered if she was.

She didn't stay up much later after Alice slipped into the night. She toyed instead with the notion of a trip to Forks over the weekend, suddenly wanting to see Charlie, and not wanting to wait for November.

When the next day presented itself, wet pavement doused in sparkling sunlight, she grabbed the few things she would need for a weekend, and began the long drive home.

She stopped for lunch, calling Charlie to let him know she was on her way. Asking if it was OK.

"Sure," he said, "but um, well, Sue and I are away for most of it. Got plans with her brother for a trip. If I'd known you were coming..."

"No, no, go," she said, "I just wanted to see you. Even for a bit today, and then catch up with some other friends," she said, lying through her teeth. She felt stupid for not thinking to call beforehand. So much for being spontaneous.

She was glad to see him, happy just to have his hug, even if it was only for the one night.

"I'm good," she said, "I've got lots of friends to see. Go!" she said, when she could see him hesitating early Saturday morning.

After she'd eaten and puttered, sorting through some of her old things, she got back in her car, this time heading squarely west.

She found herself pulling up at Jacob's, knowing he wasn't home, still not knowing where he was, but wanting to at least see Billy, at least walk the beach. Maybe see Seth and Leah.

What she was definitely not expecting, was to have Jacob open the door.

His face was almost unrecognizable.

Its angles were sharp, and creased by a care she hadn't seen him carry.

"Jacob," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "You're home!" and she wrapped her arms around him.

He stood, stunned, his own arms tentatively mirroring hers. "Hey," he said softly.

She stiffened, and pulled back, feeling the unusual, and disturbing lack of enthusiasm. So unlike him.

"When did you get back? Where were you?" She had so many questions.

She didn't ask why, though. That was a dangerous territory to tread.

"Up north," he said, his voice husky, as if he wasn't used to talking. "A few days ago," he shrugged.

"Did Charlie know you were back?" she asked.

He shook his head.

They were still standing at the door. He hadn't invited her in.

Maybe he didn't want to see her, she thought.

"I was just coming to say hi to Billy," she said, feeling awkward, "if it's a bad time—"

"No," he said, his voice sudden, but then he grimaced, like he was remembering something. "it's—he's not here," he finished.

"Oh," she said, "well, I was going to go for a walk on the beach. Want to come with me?"

It was strained, and uncomfortable. So much unlike what they'd had.

Maybe, she thought, he's finally gotten over me. The idea made her stomach twist uncomfortably, and she chided herself. It's what I've wanted. For him to move on. It's time.

His eyes had brightened at the suggestion, but darkened too. "Sure," he said, but it sounded pained.

The drive to their favourite trail head was quiet, and when she pulled over, she was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. Jake didn't seem like...Jake.

They ambled along the heavy stones, the diameter of the pebbles shrinking as they grew closer to the wash of the surf. It was a typically overcast day, and the world was a muted palette of grey and brown, a subtle, but well known beauty to both of them.

He picked up carefully selected stones and threw them, aiming to pierce the curl of the waves.

Bella chose her footing carefully. The slick rocks were easy to slip over. She'd had her share of angry ankles.

Jacob's hand caught her arm before she could fall badly. It lingered, just a moment too long, steadying her, his eyes still dark.

"How's school?" He finally said, sitting down on a log.

"Fine," she shrugged.

He nodded.

She was struggling to ask, knew she'd regret it if she didn't. She wasn't sure what would happen if she did though.

So she asked.

"Why?" she asked, her voice an unsteady whisper. "Why'd you leave?"

The answer was wordless.

He got up, and walked away, an angry stride that took him headlong into the woods, away from the trail they'd followed.

"Jake!" she called after him, but there was no reply.

She stayed, back to the water, a deep pucker between her eyebrows, wondering if he would return.

No, she realized. He had left. Just gone.

She took a deep breath, and walked back to the car, turning the starter harder than she should have. It roared, the whining transmission an unhealthy sound as she wiped her cheeks, and she made good time back to Forks.

She moped, half-absorbed in her reading, for several hours. Finally, edgy and disturbed by the encounter with Jacob, she fished in her bedside drawer for the keys she knew she'd left there.

Finding them, she made another trip in the car, this one closer to home, down a winding path, and finally, by foot, under a Willow arch.

The lock turned silently, like it had been used yesterday.

The alarm, new and shiny at the door, beeped loudly, and she felt a momentary panic, not knowing the code. Carlisle must have had it installed, she thought, trying to read the side panel instructions before it went off.

"1309," a voice said softly, and Bella jumped. Then Esme's hand was punching in the numbers.

"Sorry," she said, taking in Bella's palor. "We should've told you." Looking around at the house. "I just—I didn't know if you'd want to come back."

Bella was feeling a bit wordless, still shaking from the shock of seeing her. "I—" she started, "i hadn't planned to, I just—it was pretty spur of the moment," she finally managed, breathing out some of her flustered feeling.

"I'll go," Esme said softly.

It was so easy, in some ways, being with Esme. She could read people well, and Bella supposed she really was as much an open book as her own mother had told her she was.

"Thank you," Bella said softly. "For taking care of it," and she looked up, and around the house.

"Of course," Esme said, and was gone.

Bella looked around. She could tell, by smell alone, that the house had been cleaned of anything that would go off, but that was all. Her towel, that she'd used the night before they left, was still hanging on the back of a dining room chair, stiffly dried in place.

She went to their bedroom first. It was exactly as they'd left it. His sweater was pooled in the seat of the chair by the window. Their clothes hung still in the closet, and when she brought her nose to the collar of his shirt, she could still detect the faintest suggestion of his smell.

There were no tears though. Just the startling ghost of memory. She knew it would be easy enough to trip into her grief, and stopped herself.

No, she said firmly, silently. He didn't save you for a living death.

He saved you so you could live. Live well.

She nodded to herself, and began pulling his clothes out, packing them into some of the bags she found in the kitchen. They could go to the local thrift store. Someone could get use out of them.

Her own, she sorted into categorical piles of would realistically wear, and were pure Alice fantasy.

The fantasy pile was large.

Alice would just have to live with her choices.

By ten, she was exhausted, and while a bed stood within inches of her reach, she refused to contemplate sleeping there.

No, not with the ghosts that were waiting.

No.

She resolved to come back tomorrow, and locked the door, carefully setting the alarm. She drove the short way back to Charlie's, and pulled into his driveway.

The dim light of the porch made it easy for Jacob's form to be a surprise.

"Sorry," he said, seeing her jump.

"S'OK," she said, automatically. Why she needed to spare his feelings for scaring the crap out of her, she couldn't explain, but his reactions today had bothered her.

"I came to apologise, for leaving you at the beach today," he said, clearing his throat.

"Oh," she said, wondering that he'd showed up in person to do so. "It's OK," she said, shrugging. She had met his gaze, and no, he still didn't look like himself.

He looked, she realized suddenly, like she did, not so many months ago.

"Come in for a bit?" she asked, worried.

He nodded, a small movement that used only the energy required, and nothing more.

His movements inside were stiff too, and he sat, uncomfortably on the couch across from her.

It was clear he was making an effort to be around her. To function, in some way.

She realised he must have been in his other self for a long time.

"Hard to be on two legs again, hey?" she asked softly.

He gave a small smile, and nodded. "Eating is...strange," he said, "talking is just...weird."

"Like coming up from underwater," she murmured.

"Yeah," he said, looking at her, startled by this insight. "Exactly."

She nodded. "Grief," she said, "is a lot like having yourself reduced to another state."

"You would know," he said, his face suddenly pained, his breathing sharp. "I'm sorry, Bella," he whispered.

She was confused. "For what, Jacob?"

His face flushed. "Don't pretend. It makes it worse." He was angry, she realized.

"I'm not, Jake. What are you sorry for?"

He rattled out a long breath through his nose. "He died because he helped me, Bella. Because I needed it. I made stupid mistakes."

Everything clicked.

"You left, because you felt guilty?"

He nodded.

She was stunned.

They both sat there, she following the many implications of this realization, he stewing in a prickly discomfort.

She was trying to think of how to phrase this, so he would understand. "Jake," she started, "when he died," and her own voice shook, recalling that day, "I held myself responsible for what happened, because I'd called out—no," she said, seeing him about to interrupt, "let me finish." She cleared her throat. "And Alice—you remember what she can do, right?—she explained that he would have made the same choice, no matter what I'd said."

"It's still my fault, Bella. It wasn't ever yours."

"I'm not done," she said, her voice hard. She looked at him, her gaze a challenge. "And when Alice was done explaining that, she went on to threaten the bejeezus out of me if I ever even thought of living with the guilt of his death on me. Because to do that would be the worst insult I could ever give for what he'd done."

She looked at him again. "So I'm going to be very clear, Jacob, because I care about you so very much, that the worst thing you could do, would be to feel guilty for what happened."

He wasn't meeting her eyes. He was studying the carpet, watching the lines of it meld together and unfurl in its subtle texture. "I fucked up Bella. And he's dead because of it. Telling me not to feel that isn't exactly going to fix what I know is true."

"If my husband wanted you to feel guilty Jacob, he would have laid the groundwork for it long ago. Trust me."

It was a dirty move, but it worked.

He looked up at her, all energy returned, a fire smouldering in the look he gave her. "Husband?"

"Yes," she said, not flinching under the heat of his gaze.

He stood, hands balled, body shaking. "You—?" He swallowed. "You were—?"

"Married," she said more softly, seeing the edge he was perched at. "We didn't tell anyone," she whispered.

Holding back the grief was getting harder. Her tiredness, and the emotionality of the day were clawing at the thin wrap of her self-control. She was horrified to feel tears beginning to build. She breathed in deeply, trying to stop them.

Jacob was still vibrating, his eyebrows a deep v, "did you—were you—?" he couldn't, wouldn't, form the words.

She was too upset to realise what he was asking, and kept her focus narrow around her breathing.

When he knelt in front of her, it jarred the tears out of her precarious self-control.

He misinterpreted her reaction, utterly. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, voice angry and shaking.

"What?" she asked, and then understood. "No!" and blushed a deep red. "That's none of your business, Jake."

Jake's mind and body went their two very separate ways in responding to this question. _Of course it isn't_ , he thought abashedly, but his muscles twitched and strained, silently screaming _NO!_ and _MINE!_ He held his hands open in an anticipatory grip, a few inches away from her arms, trembling with want.

His stance was possessive, curled over her, and fear was beginning to brew in the pit of Bella's stomach.

He was distraught. She could see that much, and clearly not in control.

So she waited, beginning to vibrate, from very different emotions, at the same frequency of his hands.

"You're frightening me," she whispered.

It broke the spell, and he backed away, immediately. "I'm sorry," he said.

She waited a bit, watching him, before saying it again. "You're not responsible for his death, Jacob, and I won't thank you to think you are."

"What makes you think I want your thanks?" he snarled, angry again.

"Well you're here," she shot back. "You want something."

This tipped him completely over the edge of his control, and he had moved back to her, smothering her body with his own, his kiss hard and possessive over her mouth. It was the least of the things he wanted to do.

Bella was angry, but she knew better than to try to hit him to get him off of her, so she suffered the intimacy of his lips. It was the touch of his hands that undid her, slid softly to her cheeks, that pulled the sob from her chest.

He pulled away abruptly, hurting at her hurt.

She took advantage of the distance between them, and clambered away. She wanted to yell, "why?" at him, but she knew why. Didn't need to ask.

So she stood, instead, the tears moving freely now, looking at the same carpet he had studied earlier, and watched him swallow, and then turn, and leave.


	44. Just Right

**Just right**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"Here," Tyson said, sitting down across from her. "Probably want to put it in the fridge when you get home." He slid a small plastic container across the table towards her. When she looked confused, he smiled and said, "Tourtiere. A little piece of Canadian Thanksgiving."

She smiled at this kindness. "Thank you," and looking about for any stray librarians, said "it might not make it home. I didn't leave time for lunch." She opened it, as they began their review together, taking a small bite. She stopped, looking at it, "Oh my God. That's amazing."

"Canadians," he murmured, "we've got amazing down."

"I thought you were American?" she asked, looking up at him.

He grinned. "Dual citizenship."

They turned their attention back to their books, the easy banter between study and their lives a pleasant balance.

When the hour was up, he said, "want to go for a coffee, or something?"

"Sure," Bella said, in no rush to go home. Tyson was easy to be around. The mid-October weather was cool, but dry, and the trees on campus a colourful backdrop to the watery sun.

They'd gotten their coffees to go, and were wandering the path that slipped close to a view of the sound. He was telling her about his long weekend home with cousins and family. It was inviting, and warm. The way he described things let her live in his experience.

"You've got a way with words," she said softly. "I can see it, feel it, when you describe things."

"Well," he said, "you're a good listener, clearly."

She smiled in thanks for the compliment. "Most people say I'm just stubborn, and not a good listener."

"Maybe I'm just the right kind of talker," he suggested.

They were walking beside each other, and he slowed, she matching his pace, wondering if he needed to stop to do something.

He did, but not what she was expecting.

This kiss was different, so different, from the others she'd felt.

It was warm.

Soft, too.

And gentle.

She felt like Goldilocks, having discovered Mama Bear's bed. It was just right.

Just right.

She was stunned by its normalcy, and blinked several times when he pulled away, the worried crease at his eyebrows telling her he was nervous about what he'd just done.

He was waiting for her to say something.

And she wasn't sure what to say.

So he opened his mouth to say "Sorr—"

"Don't," she said, touching her finger to his lips, stopping the words. "I'm not. Thank you."

It was his turn to blink. 'Thank you' was most definitely not was he was expecting. He still looked confused.

They stood, staring at each other.

He was regretting what he'd done. Smacking himself around mentally. She had just lost her husband. _Her husband._ Months ago. And here he was being an idiot.

"I'm not ready, for something like that," she said softly, "but I'd like to think that I will be, someday. So thank you."

"I can wait," he said, just as quietly.

"I'd like...I'd like us to be friends, Tyson." She didn't add 'for now,' but he took it that way.

"I think I do that well," he smiled, and nodding in the direction of the rest of the path, walked forward, keeping pace with her.

He had walked her to her door, and they stood there a long time, lost in easy conversation, before they said goodbye.

It was just right.

Just right.


	45. Halloween

**Halloween**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

There had been several invitations, the most vociferous, and persistent, from Cathy, to parties, but Bella had declined them all, hiding behind the excuse that someone had to give out candy to the few children who were unfortunate enough to live amongst poorish university students.

She checked her stock of treats again. Maybe she should run out to get another bag? No, then she might miss trick or treaters. Cathy and Tyson had helped with the pumpkin carving, three of which were nestled, and lit, on her front stairs. She'd resisted the more traditional, and spooky decorations that graced her neighbours porches, but had forced herself to wander through the displays in the local stores, habituating herself to the utterly unrealistic depictions of the creatures she knew were real.

She hoped for a lot of witches and mummies.

"I think you're good to go," Tyson said, looking at the many bags of brightly coloured candies, "and I can totally help you out with the leftovers. Feel free to not give out the Reeses," he said, eyeing the orange bag.

She smiled, "still working on your freshman fifteen, huh?"

"Just during Halloween. Those things are the best."

When the first knock came at the door, she took a deep breath in, and prepared herself to come face to face with small vampires and werewolves.

The real werewolf was at least, not in his shaggy form.

She reminded herself that she was holding a bowl of candy. That Tyson would likely not understand if she dropped it.

"Jacob," she said, her throat suddenly tight. When it eased a bit, she said quietly, "Why didn't you call?"

"Spur of the moment decision," he said, smiling uncertainly, his eyes drawn by Tyson's approaching form.

Bella stepped back from the door, gesturing for him to come in.

Jacob could tell that at least the vampires weren't regular features in her life, or at least in her home. But who was this?

They were eyeing each other, all in the space of Jacob walking in the door, sizing the other up. Both stole glances at Bella, and the mutual whip of their eyes told the other all they needed to know.

They were rivals.

There was, of course, no question as to who would win in a physical fight, but as to the fight that mattered, that was an open question.

"Jake, this is my friend Tyson, Tyson, this is my friend Jacob."

Neither appreciated the mutual categorization, but they shook hands, and Bella watched, a little nervously, seeing the too neutral look they gave each other. Tyson's face grew quizzical at the heat of Jacob's hand.

Jacob, Bella was pleased to see, looked much more himself, and he held his arms open to her tentatively, his eyebrows up in hope.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and they hugged. "Sorry," he whispered in her ear, "and thank you."

"You're welcome, you stupid dog," she whispered back. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he said, releasing her.

"Well," she said, "you're just in time for the trick or treaters," she said, as the raucous sound of many small voices announced their arrival.

"Ooh!" Jacob said, eyeing the several bags of candy.

"They're for the kids Jake," Bella said, her voice stern.

Tyson grinned a little. "I think we can safely qualify as big kids," and tossed Jacob a Reese's.

She rolled her eyes at the both of them, and opened the door.

There were far fewer trick or treaters than she had anticipated though, and by eight, had given over candy possession rights to Tyson and Jacob. They engaged in friendly banter over the various virtues of each kind, while Bella looked on in wonder at the quantity they were able to consume.

Close to nine, Tyson said, "Alright, I'm going to roll home to my diabetic coma now," and stood to leave. He touched Bella's arm with just two of his fingers, and watched Jacob stiffen, almost imperceptibly, at the contact. "Call me if you want to do something this weekend, hey? Otherwise, see you in class next week."

Jacob didn't ask what the boy was to her. He didn't need to. He had eyes.

"Why now?" she asked, when they were alone.

"I wanted to see you," he said, "apologize." He didn't add, "again," because he felt like he needed to, almost every time he saw her, for some fresh injury he'd given with his words, or allowed with his bodily failure.

It both heartened, and terrified him, that she had a friend like Tyson. She must know, on some level, what he wanted with her. It was written all over him. Surely she could see it?

And yet, she had a friend like him. Someone who wanted more.

She wanted more, on some level.

He dared to hope she might want it with him.

This hope teetered on the edge of his guilt. Could he really justify pulling her back into the world she'd just escaped? One where monsters lurked beneath a fragile glass?

One where he could protect her, his mind told him. From what others refused to see.

He almost snorted, wondering what Tyson would make of what he really was. What her...and the word tasted bitter in his thoughts, what her husband had been.

It was too soon, he knew, to say anything.

She wasn't fooled by the silence, but nodded, accepting what he'd offered. "Need a place for the night?" she asked. Then finished with, "gotta great backyard for dogs," taking a drink of her water, an eyebrow arched.

"Ouch," he said, "but sure, I'll leave the explaining of the giant dog to the neighbours to you."

She laughed, imagining that conversation. "Take your pick of rooms that way," she said, nodding in the direction of the bedrooms.

He wondered if he could slip in a joke about her bedroom, but decided against it.

The next morning, they met awkwardly in the kitchen. "Hey," he said. "Can I make you breakfast? As a thank you for the roof over my head?"

"Sure," she said, frowning a little. She didn't remember him knowing how to prepare more than the most rudimentary things. "Since when do you cook?"

"Oh," he said, "Dad's been pushing me this last year, said it was time to learn to do more than just the basics," he shrugged.

He had found the ingredients for a tasty omelette in a few minutes, and she was appreciating the product not too long after that.

She hadn't bothered to do more than feed herself the simplest things since the summer. She ate enough, but with little interest. The last, most enticing thing she'd eaten had been the tourtiere Tyson's mom had sent, and now this.

Food made with care.

It made her wince, remembering him.

Jacob watched. He could read it all there, plain as if it were words on a page.

He made no demands of her that day, simply offering his company.

It was easy, Bella realised, like it was before. Just to be with him.

She felt lighter.

When he went home, insisting he needed to be back to keep Billy company, she didn't protest, but did say she hoped he'd visit again.


	46. Giving thanks, again

**Giving thanks, again**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

November rushed by at its breakneck pace, papers and midterms colouring her weeks. When Thanksgiving snuck up on her, she was tempted to stay in Seattle, and hide in the quiet, but it was Esme who called, asking for a visit, offering even to come and drive here there.

"You're tired, I hear it. I can drive. Really, but come home for a bit," she said.

Bella relented, but insisted on driving herself. "I can drive Esme, but thank you," she said softly.

Charlie was ecstatic to have her back, and he and Sue looked giddy together, the Friday night. They were holding hands under the table at dinner. She was almost embarrassed to be in the same room as them.

"So," Charlie said, when they'd almost finished, "we have some news."

Bella didn't need to hear it. She had a pretty good idea about what it was.

"We're getting married," Sue finished for him.

"That's awesome, you guys," she said, and stood to hug them both, "I'm really happy for you."

She was, but she was also feeling the familiar lump in her throat, and excused herself after dinner, claiming tiredness.

She listened to the bubble of their happy talk from her room, forcing herself to only be happy for them. She was, but still...it was hard, and when Alice's text arrived, she was glad for an excuse to laugh. It read: dinner tomorrow. Command performance. Come for six or I'm sending Emmett to drive you.

She replied with a "yes, will drive myself," knowing Alice menat business. Emmett's driving was the worst. He loved to watch her squirm at the speed he used.

When she pulled up to the house though, Alice and Jasper were waiting for her.

She wanted to run to Jasper, give him a hug, but she paused, not certain, still, of his limits. His open arms were a welcome thing. "Thank you," she said, "for taking care of the girls. For saving them."

"You're welcome," he said softly. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking, "that I couldn't do more."

Bella needed to step away for a moment, after that, wiping her eyes.

"OK," Alice said, watching the exchange. "Jasper, you know I can see that everything will be fine, right?"

Jasper nodded, but in a surly way. "For now," he mumbled.

"Haven't we tested this?" She said, "Many times?"

"Not with Bella, we haven't," he said.

"What are you guys talking about?" Bella asked, confused.

"We have special guests," Alice chirped, smiling.

"Grace?" Bella asked, suddenly realising why Jasper was there. "And Bree?"

Alice was jumping up and down, clapping. "Come on!"

Grace was stunning. She turned as Bella entered the living room, her skin an unbelievable pearly white, shimmering against the forest-green dress she wore. Her once mousey hair was dark and thick.

"Grace!" Bella said, not sure if she could approach. She looked at Alice and Jasper, as if asking for permission.

"I'm so glad to see you Bella!" Grace said, smiling widely at her, but not moving closer. "But, maybe, let'snot test my control, OK?"

"Where's Bree?" Bella asked, looking around, like she might have missed her.

"Oh," Grace said, "she's outside, she wasn't feeling up to this, and, well...I'm glad," she said. "I don't want you hurt."

"Maybe someday," Bella said, offering a small smile.

"Maybe," Grace said, but sadly so. She didn't hope for more than was realistic.

Esme had made dinner, and gone to lengths that made Bella feel grateful, and squirmy, all at the same time.

The Cullens' many hugs and small endearments unpacked some of her discomfort, but she felt like an interloper, her very bodily needs betraying just how little she belonged.

It was dislocating, seeing it now, afresh, again.

Edward had held the rift together so well, but now, it had widened, and she looked at her hands, the skin fractured with scars and small wrinkles. She would never be like them.

She didn't want to be like them. Not anymore. Not without Edward.

No.

She needed her own place, and her own life.

And she contemplated the closing of one path, and the several before her.

"You never ask me what I see," Alice said, watching her.

"Feels like cheating," Bella said. "And," she added, "I know it changes."

"Hmm," Alice said. "It does."

"Will you all stay here much longer?" Bella asked, looking at the Cullens, wondering how old they were purportedly.

"A few more years, yes," she said. "Then we'll need to go." Bella could tell that much remained, that the pull to stay was strong. But not strong enough to endanger them.

Alice pointedly didn't ask Bella about her future choices. She kept the talk solidly in the present.

Bella watched the coordinated movements around her, each of the Cullens giving the other space to sit with her, it all looking unplanned and casual. When Carlisle sat down across from her, she wondered where the bent of their conversation would go.

"You've lost weight," he said, looking at her.

She blew out a breath in mild exasperation.

It felt like she had this conversation with Charlie, or Alice, or a friend at school almost weekly.

"I'm—" she started.

"Fine, yes, I can tell," he said, his eyebrows raised sardonically. His lips were not beyond a smile.

"I'd like you to think about how you'd feel watching Charlie lose weight every time you saw him," he said. "And then maybe listen to me."

Maybe she wasn't the best listener. Maybe Tyson had that wrong.

"Everyone wears their grief differently," he said softly. "Feels it differently." He watched her face, studying the reaction.

She was holding her own. It was easier, each day. But it was harder, definitely, here, where the memories were stronger.

"Have you talked with anyone, like we discussed?" he asked. Carlisle had pushed hard, in the summer, for her to see a grief counsellor. She'd resisted, not sure how she could possibly speak with someone while holding back their secret. Carlisle had pointed out that there was little, in the way of their secret, that would need revelation there. He'd finally pulled out his ace, asking her what Edward would have wanted.

She'd conceded then, but stalled, not ever quite able to make the phone call.

Friends and school were distractions.

Alice helped.

Tyson helped.

But Carlisle could see that there were dark things lurking underneath the surface she presented. He'd seen it enough. Watched enough people grieve themselves to death. She was coping, but just.

"You do a good job pretending," he said, "that you're OK. But you're not." He took her hand at this point, just to hold it, she thought, but no, he was looking at her nails, running his thumb of the ridges of them. "Not eating well, not sleeping well, either, I'm guessing."

She pulled her hand back. It was too familiar a touch.

"Will you see someone, please?" he asked. "It won't hurt, and it might help."

It wouldn't hurt. There was a lie if she ever heard one.

"And are you seeing someone?" she asked, her eyebrows arched.

She wasn't expecting him to nod. "We all are," he said.

This put an entirely different spin on it, and she frowned, looking down.

"Please," he said. "For yourself, and if not that, then for the many people who love you."

And she thought about Jacob, and how she could see it eating him up, watching him nurse his guilt. She nodded.

"Good," Carlisle said, and then launched into detailed questions about who'd she considered. When it became clear that she'd done nothing beyond the simplest search, he pulled out his phone and began making calls. "Tuesday at four?" he asked, looking at her. When she nodded, he finished the call, and gave her the information.

When Esme asked if she could come with Bella, stay a night or two, she wondered if perhaps this was Carlisle's not so subtle way of making sure she kept her appointment. But when the snow began to fall, lightly, and then heavily, she thought that perhaps Alice had seen more practical concerns.

She was happy to give over the driving a few hours in, the roads slick and white, heavy with traffic. They counted several accidents on the way, and were glad not to be numbered among them.

It made Bella uneasy, this overt concern they had for her, and as they approached Seattle, she put it into words.

"Esme, I know you all care about me. Deeply. I understand, but," and she sighed, "you can't be there for me forever, making sure I don't drive in the snow when traffic is bad, or stop me from tripping over myself. You can't. You need your own lives, and I do too."

"Is that what you think this is?" Esme smiled, laughing. It was a beautiful sound, like everything she produced. "I really do have things I want to do in Seattle, Bella. It seemed good timing though, so spare you a drive like this."

"Really?" Bella said, feeling this was thin.

"Really?" Esme said, matching her disbelief. "Do you expect lies from me?"

"It's not like it hasn't happened before," Bella said softly.

Esme frowned. "I understand, I do. But no, Bella, we're not sparing you anything in the truth here. We're here. We won't be forever. Can you blame us for wanting to see you well, while we can?"

"No," Bella said, "I don't, and I am grateful, but…"

"We've earned your skepticism Bella. We know," she said.

The truth of this sat between them, surprisingly at peace with itself, and they drove on.


	47. Homeless

**Homeless**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"You don't need to feel homeless," Charlie said, abruptly. "You will always have a place with me."

"Dad, it's fine, really," Bella said, a little exasperated. "I am a homeowner. Several times over. I'm good."

"You know what I mean," he said. "A house isn't a home unless you make it one."

"I'm happy for you both, really. It makes sense for you to move there. I'll come in May, and help clear stuff out, before the closing date," she said, imagining the amount of work that would need to be done. He'd been there so long.

"I don't know if there'll be anything to do by then," he said, "Sue's on the warpath for downsizing at both places. Hard negotiations going on there." It sounded odd, but she could hear it was said with a smile.

They said their goodbyes, and as Bella hung up the phone, she drummed her fingers on the table. She had been asked back to the Forest service again to intern, and it was a position she was eager to take. But she would need a place to stay, and that meant either trying to squeeze in with Charlie, and Sue, and Leah and Seth, or going back to what she tried to think of as her place. It still came out as their place in her mind.

It would just have to be her place, she supposed.

At least, she thought, the house here would hold some company come the fall. Cathy had said she was done with residence, and looking for something saner housing-wise. It had only seemed logical to offer her a room there.

She hadn't been lonely, but it had been quiet. Too quiet. Too easy to slip into just existing.

The counsellor—Dale—had been insistent on that front.

"Join a group, a club, something," he said, "you need to do more than simply study and sleep."

So, she'd asked Cathy what there was to do. She'd never been interested in clubs before.

"Well," she'd said, "you can join the club I go to, but only if you don't make fun of me for it." Then she'd fixed her with a gimlet glare, daring her to when she said what it was.

Bella had laughed, hysterically.

She'd apologised later, and with some appropriate grovelling, had gone to join her.

It was a Dungeons and Dragons club.

It was exactly the kind of mindless thing, with what turned out to be really imaginative people, to do. So, every Thursday, they sat at lunch hour, spinning fantities and playing games.

A distraction.

Saying goodbye to Charlie's house would be another one, too, she supposed. A harder one, that.

She was loading the last of the bags into her car when she saw Tyson approaching. He was heading home, too, in a few days. His exams ran later than hers.

"Hey," he said, lifting the last of the bags for her. "Wanted to see you off."

Her stomach squirmed, suddenly uneasy. Friends didn't see each other off. She'd been clear. Really clear, about what they were.

She didn't want to be rude, but she couldn't hang around. It was a long drive. He knew it.

"This is for you," he said. It was a card. There was an address on the back. "In case you're ever in my neck of the woods."

She smiled. It wasn't likely. "Thanks," she said.

"Don't forget your friends," he said, and pulled her into a quick hug.

There was a lot more that he didn't want her to forget, but he wasn't going to push it.

"I'll see you in the fall, OK?" she said, the card between her fingers, "Work is going to be busy."

"In the fall then," he said, and walked away.

She thought about him, and Jacob, on the drive home. They frequently swum up in her thoughts, together, these two men who'd made their intentions clear, but oh, so differently.

Jake had visited sparingly, never spending the night again. He was careful, she knew, to keep his distance physically. They'd never discussed that night at Charlie's. It was a wound that was just closed, not yet scabbed over. Not ready to have the fingers of conversation run over it again.

She didn't bother settling in with Charlie. Knew it would be better simply to face her fears with her own house, and make it a new place. One that was devoid of Edward's ghost.

The house had been kept, neatly, tended to, she could tell, by Esme's careful hand in the garden. The Willow arch was free of the morning glory that threatened in every corner, and the azaleas pruned. The lone Magnolia bloomed petulantly in the corner of the yard, and the deck was swept. Even the hot tub was clean.

She hadn't used it in almost a year, so after an afternoon of unpacking, and grocery shopping, she was more than grateful to settle into it, watching the stars unfold themselves in the purple night.

She was mulling over plans, when her phone buzzed on the deck. It was a text from Alice: can I help?

Bella laughed, seeing it. Of course Alice would want to help, but no. Probably better if you don't, she wrote back. Humans only, she added.

After the first week of work, Bella sped home early on the Friday, getting things ready.

Alice was already there.

"I'm sorry, but I foresaw difficulties," she said, eyeing Bella's BBQ.

"As in, I burned the house down, difficulties?" she asked, "I thought I was pretty clear about this Alice. We know your history with parties."

"Just one," she mumbled.

"And it was enough," Bella shot back, not annoyed, but wary.

"OK, fine," Alice said, resigned, "but keep the heat way lower than you were planning to." With a quick peck on the cheek, she said, "and come play with me tomorrow, I miss you."

Bella smiled. "Miss you too. See you then, now shoo! Let me fail on my own if I need to."

Alice disappeared, and in the distance, Bella could hear the first cars rumbling down the ruts in the road.

It was, she was pleased to declare later on, a success. People had come, eaten, socialized, and left. And she hadn't burnt anything, herself included.

As she cleared away the last of the dishes, she smiled in the reflection of the window over the sink. She'd had a party, and it had been fun.

Happiness wasn't the predominant feature in her life, but she'd found it in small corners, and unexpected moments over the last few months.

She'd found a piece of it tonight, laughing at something someone had said. She'd felt normal, and light.

How far she'd come, she mused, since last year.

The wedding, as she insisted on calling it, for Charlie and Sue crept up quickly. Charlie refused to use the 'W' word, referring it as 'just getting married' and 'a barbeque,' but Bella knew better, watching Sue's face. When she told him as much, he stopped fussing so much over the wording, and let everyone else fuss a bit more over the plans.

The day had dawned uncharacteristically bright, and sunny, and the guests had sweltered in the late afternoon sun. The minister had kept the ceremony brief though, and Charlie looked relieved to be able to pull off his suit jacket after, he and Sue smiling amongst their guests.

The barbeque was casual, and if it hadn't been for all fancier clothes, Bella would have felt like she was at just another big family dinner.

When she finally found a quiet moment with Charlie, he pulled her close to him, setting them together on a bench set in the corner of the yard. "You having a good time?" he asked, watching her take in the crowd, quietly.

"Yeah, it's good to see you together Dad, I'm happy for you," she said. And it was, but hard too. She didn't add that.

She'd been watching people, lost in her own quiet thoughts.

Jacob and Billy were there, of course, and they'd said hello, but Jacob had given her space.

She was watching them now, a very quiet, but frustrated exchange going on between them.

"What's up with them?" she asked her dad, seeing Jacob walk away from his father.

Charlie made a grumbling sound. "Maybe you should ask Jake that yourself," he said, uncomfortable with answering.

She looked at him sideways. "That bad, huh?" Her stomach lurched a bit, wondering what could make them fight.

"Jacob got a scholarship, to your school, actually," he said, "but he won't take it. Can't afford the whole thing without going into debt."

"What can't he afford?"

"Housing, living costs. Tuition and books are covered," Charlie said, taking a drink of his beer.

Bella looked at him.

"I did say he might ask if you were open to more roommates," he mumbled quietly.

Bella's eyebrows shot up at this. She did not expect this. Not from Charlie.

"Was I wrong to?"

She was still too stunned to say anything. She had to think for a moment. "No," she said, "it'd be fine for me, I...don't know how Jake would feel about it though."

"Well," Charlie said, "seeing as he told Billy he was going to one of the local colleges, I don't think it was something he really considered," he said.

"But they don't have anything like the main campus," she said, not pleased he was limiting his choices.

"Maybe he'd feel differently, hearing it from you?" Charlie suggested.

"Maybe," she said, wondering what it would be like, having Jacob for a...roommate.

Just a roommate, she told herself.

She didn't say anything that evening. She figured he would be in a grouchy mood, seeing him sulk away from Billy. She called, a few days later, technically with a question about her car, which was making an odd sound. She could have simply taken it into the garage in town, but it was a convenient excuse to talk to him.

"What kind of sound?" he asked, and when the description wasn't sufficient, she could hear him frowning. "Can you bring it here, tonight? I've got time," he said.

"Sure," she said, keys already in hand. She knew him well.

He had scooted under the car easily, getting her to sit in it and try a number of things while he looked around.

"Ah," he said, "bent rotor." And with a light tweak, had fixed it.

"Thank you," she said. "I owe you, big time, for all the service you've done on this thing."

Jacob shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Really Jake," Bella said, "you've saved me thousands, by this point," and she lifted her chin to the corner, "not to mention the work you did there."

Her company had been payment in kind, but he said nothing, but gave a small smile instead, one that failed to make his eyes crinkle. It was acknowledgement enough for her purposes.

"So," she said, "what's up with you and Billy?"

She wanted to hear it for herself. Offer him a solution, if she could.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Nothing usually doesn't involve an argument at a wedding, Jake." She raised her eyebrows at him.

He sighed, and then told her, in his own words, what the problem was. "I don't want the debt. I've seen what it takes to carry that," he said, "just go ask Leah's cousin," and he shook his head.

She considered how she might frame her proposal. "Well," she said, "considering I owe you big time for all the work you've done, why don't you let me pay you back with room and board for a year."

He looked at her, both eyebrows to his hairline. "You're proposing I come live with you."

"No," she said, "That makes it sound all weird. I'm suggesting you be one of my roommates."

"Roommates?"

"Yeah, Cathy's moving in."

He considered this, looking at her car, balancing out the math in his head. "I don't think I've done quite enough to qualify for a year of room and board," he said, frowning.

"I'm sure it'll need more work in the next year. And I can always use a hand with house stuff. It would be...helpful," she said.

She felt only the slightest twinge of guilt. The Cullens had dropped by enough to make sure that she really didn't, but she was sure Jacob could take much of it on, if he felt the need to.

Bella could see him debating it all, from the many different angles of consideration.

"Just roommates, Jake," she said softly.

"OK," he said softly.

"Awesome," Bella said, "you and Cathy can rock paper scissors for the bigger room," and grinned.


	48. Sickness and Health

**Sickness and Health**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Where learning had been a tedium in high school, it became a joy in university for Jacob. He threw himself into his course work, the engineering and design program offering enough practical work to keep him grounded with his hands, but also wrapped in the more ephemeral spin of theory.

They were both careful at home, each respecting the very rigid expectations they'd made of themselves. It was, in some senses, like living back in residence again for Bella. She was careful how she dressed, careful about the noise she made. Careful not to do anything that might be misconstrued.

They both wished Cathy was so careful. She was a good friend, but not the most considerate roommate, and there were no secrets about the friends who came home late with her. Or spent the night.

Jacob pulled no punches when it came to pointing out Cathy's several flaws on the consideration front, and held nothing back in his innuendo filled jokes. Cathy gave as good as she got, and Bella excused herself from more than one blush-inducing conversation at the table.

It was in early October that Cathy'd finally gotten enough hints to take her nocturnal habits elsewhere, and Bella was looking forward to a quieter weekend. She'd finished most of her school work, and had a small stack of novels waiting to be devoured. By late Friday though, she realized her body had other plans, and had taken to bed with a rattling cough, the chill and burn of a fever making a tight grip of her bones.

Jacob had heard her, and knocked politely at her bedroom door. "You need anything?" he asked, seeing her shivering under the covers.

"Just some water, please," she said, which he brought, and then left quietly.

He'd watched her stumbling back and forth to the bathroom on Saturday, and again on Sunday, and was starting to grow worried. On Monday, she didn't answer when he knocked, and he listened intently, hearing her breathing strained and shallow.

He figured he was justified in checking on her. She'd do the same for him, or Cathy, if they needed it, and stepped inside. Touching her forehead, he was alarmed to feel no difference in their temperatures. When he called her name, and jostled her shoulder, there was no response.

He called Carlisle, knowing he was probably overreacting, but not wanting to drag her out of bed to a doctor, unless he really needed to.

Carlisle had listened with his own concern, and told him he'd be there in an hour.

He'd arrived faster than expected, a large bag of supplies in hand, moving quickly to her.

"Pneumonia," he said, looking at Jacob, hearing her breathing, before he sat down beside her. "Give me a hand, will you?" Jacob held her upright, while Carlisle pressed his ear to her back. "Lower lobes only, that's good," he murmured to himself. Laying her back down, he pulled out an IV bag, and several syringes.

Jacob was managing himself just fine, right until Carlisle pulled out the oxygen mask. He knew just enough to know Pneumonia could kill people. "Shouldn't we take her to a hospital?" he asked, alarm colouring his voice.

"No," Carlisle shook his head. "I can take care of this here, and I'd prefer she not be exposed to anything else while she's so compromised." He was listening to her pulse, picking up already. "She'll be much better in a few hours, but the recovery will take a while. A week or more of serious rest," he said.

Jacob was trying to still his rising panic, and concern for her wellbeing.

"I can have Alice or Esme come," Carlisle said, watching Jacob's breathing now too.

"No," Jacob said, feeling suddenly very possessive. "I'll take care of her."

Carlisle looked at Jacob, and the stance he'd taken. "Alright," he said, and gave him the instructions for care. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on her, but call me if anything becomes worse. Immediately." Jacob nodded, and Carlisle turned, his own face creased with worry, and kissed the top of Bella's head. He said a silent prayer, and with a final look at Jacob, left.

Jacob felt the weight of expectation. It was heavy, and multi-faceted. He'd failed her, so horrifically last year, and as he watched her straining to breath, determined he would not do so again. She would get better. He would make certain of it.

Carlisle had warned him that she could be delirious for the next day or so, and when she began talking, it was in broken ideas and words. They began to clarify though, and it was startling for him to hear how.

She called his name.

He'd parked himself in a chair by the bed, intent on her breathing, and making sure it was growing deeper, rather than sinking back into the shallow pant that had frightened him earlier.

She'd opened her eyes, and with her free hand had reached for him, her fevered grip tight and hot on his own. "Jacob," she said. "You're here."

"Yeah," he said, "I'm here," and moved to sit on the bed, so she wasn't reaching so far. She said something else, but he couldn't catch it, the rasp of her voice growing thinner.

He leaned in closer, "didn't hear you," he said softly, but it wasn't speaking that she was interested in. She used both hands to pull herself up by his shoulders, and brought her lips, cracked and sweltering, to his.

"Stop," he said, pulling back, "you're really delirious Bella," and pushed her, as gently as he could, to lay back down.

"No," she said, "I'm not," and stared at him, as long as the fever and exhaustion would let her.

He breathed out a shaky whuff of relief when her eyes closed.

It was like having his innards pulled out of him, and stuffed back in.

He'd kept everything so carefully contained, packed neatly into a place where he never went with his hopes or dreams.

And all she'd had to do was try to kiss him, and the whole thing had exploded into a bloody muck of expectation.

He was exhausted when Carlisle arrived the next day.

"Go sleep," Carlisle said, watching him yawn. "I'll wait with her 'til you're up."

Jacob didn't want to. Didn't want to miss her waking, in the more meaningful sense.

Carlisle seemed to sense this. "She'll be sleeping for a while yet. I'll get you if anything changes," he said.

Jacob snatched a few hours, the oblivion coming quickly, and receding so too.

Her face was less wan when he returned, a light flush of colour to her cheeks. "Fever's broken," Carlisle said, his tone lighter. "And her breathing—"

"I can hear it," Jake said, nodding, relieved.

"She's on the mend," Carlisle said, "overall. Just make sure she doesn't get up and try to do a whole bunch in the next week. Call me if you need any help on that front," he said, smiling a little. Before he left, he said, "would you give her this?" and left a small, folded, note in Jacob's hand.

He nodded, putting it in his pocket, as he returned to his vigil.

Cathy had returned, and made herself useful. She'd tidied, cleaned, and shopped, and then stayed well out of Jacob's way. He wished it could always be so.

When Bella finally came to herself that evening, she looked at him, blinking.

"Hey," he said, "you're back." He kept his voice low and soft, like he might frighten her away again.

"You're here," she said, her breathing becoming tighter, her eyes swimming. "I thought—I thought I was dreaming."

"Nope," he said, making light of it. "Just a stinky old dog. Nothing else to see."

The fever had broken in more ways than one, and it had cracked the warped expectation she'd held herself to. She had felt the world sliding away with her increasingly shallow breaths, and had struggled to cling to the threads of reality. It would have been easy to let it all go.

But Jacob had been the strong cord she'd tied herself to, and when the fever stripped away all the other ties, leaving her content to let go, it was him she'd found herself struggling towards, one shaky breath at a time.

"You saved me, Jake," she whispered, already tired by the few words she'd given.

"I think Carlisle did that," he said softly, checking her pulse.

She made herself sit up, and he felt the panic again, seeing her wobble from the light headedness. "No, you saved me, Jacob," and then felt herself slipping backwards into the familiar grip of exhaustion.

He too was failing on that front, and after watching her breathing, seeing it steady, had sat beside her on the bed, feeling the pull of his own eyes downwards.

When he woke in the morning, it was with a start, checking to make sure she was OK.

She was, and opened her eyes, smiling at him, then slipping away again into sleep.

By the next day, she'd eaten, and it had filled him with a visceral pleasure, seeing her improve. She watched him, even when too tired to speak, and he stayed by her, watching her, watch him. The mutual possessiveness was a growing thing.

When she was finally well enough to get up, and stumble to the bathroom mostly unaided, she returned to him, taking his hands in hers. "I'm not delirious now," she said, "and I remember what I did, and why. And the feeling hasn't changed." She closed her eyes, and said, less certainly, "but I understand if your feelings have."

Then she waited, trembling from a well grounded fear of rejection, and from the weariness of her body.

"No," he said, "they haven't changed," and when she lifted her face to his, the kiss that met there was soft, and gentle.

It wasn't, as Bella had found with Tyson, just...right.

It was perfect.

Her hands slid down to his hips, and his followed her lead, but the sway of her torso told him she was trying to stay upright, and he caught her before she fell, picking her up, and carrying her to the bed.

"No," she said, when he went to pull back, "don't leave."

"I'm not," he murmured, "but you're really sick, Bella."

"I'm not that sick," she said, her voice suddenly firm, even if her breath wasn't so certain.

"Yes," Jacob said, smiling at this sure sign of improved health, "you really are." He let her pull his lips back towards hers though, and when he could feel her straining to breathe, broke the contact. "Breathing first," he said, "everything else later."

Seeing her well enough, he spared a thought for his own care, and slipped into his own room to shower and change. As he emptied his pockets, Carlisle's note came into view. He'd forgotten, in all the busyness of caring for her, to actually give it to her.

When he returned, he handed it to her. "Sorry," he said, "this is from Carlisle. I should have given it to you when you woke up."

She took it, and unfolded it, the words drawing tears, but not of unhappiness.

"What is it?" he asked, only seeing she was crying.

She turned the paper to him, beyond her own words. "We'll love you, always, and we'll love the ones you love, too. - Carlisle"


	49. Not those hands

**Not those hands**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: If you enjoyed reading this, I would love to hear why or how. As well, have an idea for a new story? I'm always open - please PM. Cheers!

* * *

Jacob was remarkably easy going, all things considered. And when Alice had asked to plan the wedding, he'd shrugged and looked at Bella, who shrugged right back. "Sure," they'd said together, Bella adding belatedly, "but we get veto power, OK?" Alice, of course, had successfully talked them out of every veto they'd attempted to make.

But on this, and this alone, Jacob was firm.

"No," he said, "no Vampire hands on our children. And none near them. Ever. Not by our choice."

Bella had only nodded. There was no question to it, not with what it meant with Jacob's heritage.

The Cullen's time in Forks was coming to a close. The whispers about age had begun, and it was with many mixed feelings that they took their leave.

"Not long," Carlisle said, looking at Bella sit awkwardly, trying to get comfortable, while Jacob rubbed her back. "And you're in excellent hands with the midwives here," he added, more to himself, than to her, as they sat together at the table.

"People keep telling me that," she said, fanning herself, warm already, and warmer with Jacob's touch. "But I swear, time moves slower when you're this pregnant."

Carlisle grinned. "You would not be the first pregnant woman I've heard that from."

He hadn't enjoying sitting on his hands, watching Bella's pregnancy progress. It would have been the one he would have treasured caring for most, but Jacob's low, and to Bella, silent growl, had been warning enough when the couple had broken the news to them all. Jacob tolerated it when they hugged her, but even then, the genetic enmity wasn't far below the surface.

She had insisted on driving out to see them off, Jacob insisting he at least go with her. She was squirming in the front seat for most of the ride, not able to find a position that let her be comfortable. By the time they arrived, her back was killing her.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Jacob frowned, watching her grimace through the last rough patches of road.

"I want to say goodbye, properly," she said, her eyes starting to brim.

He blew out a breath. The tears were always close. It drove her nuts, feeling so emotional. It just made him feel uneasy.

"Just hormones," the midwife had told them. "Totally normal," she smiled, watching Bella wipe her eyes.

Carlisle, however, was visibly surprised when she got out of the car. "You didn't think to check in with your midwife, first?" he asked, looking at them both.

"No," Bella said, squatting, focused on the ground, trying to relieve the pressure on her back, "why?"

Carlisle had enough experience with first time parents to word his response very carefully.

"Well," he said softly, "I think you might be in labour, Bella."

"What?!" Jacob said, "why didn't you tell me?" he shot at Bella, suddenly angry, accusatory.

"Because I'm not," she growled back.

Jacob looked at Carlisle, who raised his eyebrows, and looked sideways at Bella, his palms up. He knew better than to argue with a labouring woman.

"Well, we'll say our goodbyes then," Esme said, coming to join Carlisle, hearing and smelling all she needed to know. She wondered if they'd make it back to the hospital in time.

Bella stood up from her squat, and went to take a step towards them, when she felt, rather than heard, a small, internal pop. A volley of fluid saturated her shorts, and she stopped.

Jacob went rigid.

Carlisle had to nudge him to go to her. "Everything's OK," he called out softly, not approaching, "your water just broke."

"Yep," Bella said, "got that," and then her knees gave out with the first contraction, accompanied by a sound Jacob had never heard her produce before.

Carlisle was feeling an unprecedented anxiety, counting the seconds between the contractions he could hear.

"Jacob," he said, and leaned in as close as he could, whispering to him.

Jacob became very, very pale, but picked Bella up, and carried her inside the house.

"Here," Alice said, and pointed to a bedroom on the main floor, where Jacob set her down on the bed.

Carlisle laid out supplies on the bench at the foot of the bed.

By this point, Bella had realized that her carefully planned hospital birth was out the window. All care for the plan was gone too, and she was trying to hold on to herself in the fractional breathing spaces between contractions.

Esme was on the phone in the hall, and Carlisle had stepped back to the door. "Bella, try to get on your hands and knees, if you can," he called, looking at Jacob, nodding at him to help her.

The pain in her back eased with the movement, but the urge to push was overwhelming.

Watching her strain, Carlisle listened intently. Both heart rates were fine between contractions, but there was a dip in the baby's that he didn't like, when she pushed.

"They're on their way," Esme said.

"Who?" Bella called, panting.

"Help," she said, not wanting to startle her with the words 'ambulance,' 'midwife,' or, 'your dad.'

"Try to pant through the urge to push," Carlisle said, "until there's more help."

" _YOU'RE_ HERE!" Bella roared through her next contraction, bearing down. He seemed like help enough, at this point.

Carlisle was shaking his head at Jacob.

His meaning was clear.

All was not well.

"I'll be right back," Jacob said softly, pulling away from her hands. She put her face down into the bed, a long, and low moan disappearing into the mattress. She couldn't hear the murmurs at the door, but she knew a worried tone when she heard one.

"What is it?" she called out, before bearing down again.

"Pant!" Carlisle barked, still staying back. "Don't push!"

Jacob closed his eyes, weighing what he'd heard from Carlisle. "Just enough to help," he gritted at him.

"Everyone else out," Carlisle said tersely.

They house cleared, instantly.

"Bella," Carlisle said softly, "I need to check to see where the baby is, OK?"

Bella nodded, and Jacob helped her turn, pulling her shorts off. She hissed at the pressure on her back.

"You're doing great, Bella," Carlisle whispered, as he palpated her abdomen, and then checked internally.

When he was done, he looked at Jacob. "I need more hands," he said, "quickly. Who?"

"Alice," Jacob said.

"And?" Carlisle said, pulling out more items from the bag by the bed.

"Esme," Jacob swallowed.

He really hoped they'd hunted.

Carlisle called them, and they appeared silently, all eyes on Jacob's anxious posture. "It's OK," he said, looking at Bella, who was panting through another contraction. "One more push, Bella, and then we're going to help the baby out, OK?"

She nodded, and pushed, the pressure of the head making her gasp and stiffen.

Carlisle moved at a careful, and human speed, placing Jacob's hands on the last firmness in Bella's abdomen, with sharp instructions to push when he told him to. Esme and Alice moved Bella's legs back, and with a maneuver that made Bella wonder how everything could hurt _more_ , dislodged the baby's shoulder from her pelvis.

The small, and loudly protesting body of their baby slid into Carlisle's hands, and he turned her gently onto Bella, stomach to stomach, placing a soft blanket over them both. Her rattling cry made everyone in the room smile, and for those who could, cry.

Alice and Esme had backed away as soon as the baby was out, holding each other's hands, faces joyful, as they watched Jacob and Bella's faces crumple in smiles and tears.

"Baby's good," Carlisle said, tallying the apgar score in his head. "Jacob?" he said, looking at the baby, smiling, trying to get him to pick her up. "Remember to support the head," he said softly, and began kneading Bella's abdomen, throwing a sheet over her, and another blanket. When he heard the distinct cry he was waiting for, he handed the scissors to Jacob, who seemed uncertain what to do. "Just cut," he smiled, "you can't do it wrong."

"One more push," Carlisle said to Bella, and was relieved to see the placenta arrive intact.

As he stitched, Carlisle said, "I don't normally tell mothers this while I'm patching them up postpartum, but if you ever have another one," and he paused, watching Bella look at him wide-eyed, "plan a home birth," he finished.

Esme and Alice had just helped Bella clean up, when they heard the crunch of tires on the distant side of the drive.

Peering over Jacob's shoulder, Carlisle smiled at Bella's daughter, and said softly, "Grandpa's here."

"Wait," Jacob said, as he went to leave, and looking back at Bella, raised an eyebrow. She nodded, and Jacob carefully put the baby in Carlisle's hands. "Thank you," he said.

Carlisle had no words, but looked down at the baby and smiled, feeling her solid weight. He knew it would be the only time he held her, and it was with a distinct, and unusual mixture of joy, and sadness that he gave her back to Bella.

Alice had snapped a photo before Bella could protest, and was pleasantly surprised when she looked directly at her, inviting another one.

"I'll send them to you," she said softly.

Charlie was beyond ecstatic, and his breathless arrival eclipsed the noise of the ambulance, and the midwives, who picked up their work where Carlisle had left off.

And so it was, as she watched the ambulance doors close over the smiling faces of the Cullen's, waving at her, Jacob, and their baby, that this newest chapter in her life began, and the old one ended.

\- The end -


End file.
